


Aphelion

by sarughhh



Series: Interstellar Evolving [1]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Angst, Combat, Drama, F/F, F/M, Fighting, Flashbacks, Fluff, Force Bond (Star Wars), Force Ghosts, Force-Sensitive Reader, Like reaaaaal slow, Making Out, Mild Gore, Piloting Adventures, Resistance Spy, Romance, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Slow Romance, Star Wars References, There will be sex, Visions, hux and reader become bffs, kylo doesn't understand feelings, neither does readerchan, srry
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-09
Updated: 2016-06-26
Packaged: 2018-05-25 16:41:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 15
Words: 68,923
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6202924
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sarughhh/pseuds/sarughhh
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>//Aphelion is the point in the orbit of a planet, asteroid, or comet at which it is furthest from the sun//</p><p>"Do not go gentle into that good night.<br/>Rage, RAGE against the dying of the light."</p><p>General Leia Organa leads a brave Resistance. And an even braver girl. You, being the only spy they have, set out on a treacherous mission to find Starkiller Base. Its location recovered through rumors among people and creatures. You are to recover valuable information from them that could put the Resistance one step ahead of the loathsome enemy. Leaving behind friendships, bonds, and ties you know you may never experience again should the outcome become fatal. Through a not-so-unfortunate series of events, you find yourself amid the wreckage that is the outcome of getting involved with the man behind the mask and the commander of the First Order—Kylo Ren. Awakening within you: A greater purpose. As you come across new and old allies and enemies and watch a love affair unfold, it brings new light to the battle of good and evil; of light and dark.</p><p>[Kylo x Reader/OFC]<br/>[POV second person, Reader is looking through OFC's eyes]<br/>[pre- during- and some post Episode 7]</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Here it is!!!!! Get fucked!!!!!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ***READ NOTES AT BOTTOM BEFORE READING***

_“We love you so much.”_

_“Be safe. Stay safe, my love.”_

_You couldn't make that promise._

_Breaking apart from one last embrace, two faces with worry shining in their eyes were gazing at you with pride and heartbreak as you backed away. You clutched the bag strap tightly that was over your shoulder like it was keeping you from falling, its contents were the life you had made for yourself here._

_It was more than you could bear, saying goodbye. Although, you knew you were headed straight for harder trials and tribulations. But at the moment, this felt like your heart was breaking in two._

_“Mom. Dad. I’ll miss you,” you choked out and continued to back away, “I will be back. I know it. I’ll make it.” Would you? How long would you last? How long would it be before you were dead at the hands of a stranger?_

_Throat burning and vision blurred with tears ready to spill the second you blinked, you took one last long, loving look at the figures standing outside the door of the place you have called home for as long as you can remember. This house-this home. It was a speck in the galaxy, as were you, yet it held your entire life in it. Holes in the walls from nails hanging up art by you. Lines drawn up the doorways from years of measuring you as you grew. A broken hinge on a window from all those times you snuck out to catch a glimpse of the stars. Yet now, it was nothing but a starting point to you; life begins here._

_Your parents. They clung to each other for dear life as they watched their daughter leave and blossom before their eyes. You focused your gaze from them to the house behind them that sent off a light in the darkness of the night in your direction, almost like it was showing you the path to take. A sliver lining. It was then you realized you didn't know if you would ever call a place home again after this moment._

_It took all of your strength to tear yourself away from the scene and begin walking away with your back turned to them, hot tears escaping your eyes and streaming down your cheeks and jaw. Forcing yourself to keep moving forward towards your speeder that was parked far off from them. You could hear your mother let out a sob as you walked away and the shuttering, breathy words of comfort being spoken by your father._

_You sling your bag onto your speeder, locking it in place and take a deep shaky breath. A breath of true fear. You lift your arms up to the base of the speeder to hoist yourself up but pause before you do so to turn your head to the soft hazy light of the house and the two once sturdy figures. Tears continue to stream down your face and you turn to them fully. Putting your hand to your heart and then lifting it up in the air, you watched as they mirrored the action. This was something your family did to showcase love or in this case, say goodbye._

_With a pain aching in your heart, you get onto your speeder and look down the path that was shining through the dark, barren land. This was the first step of many in your long journey of being who you truly needed to be. What that was, you didn't know. You could feel the pull. Feel the fingers of something greater that was in store for you laced within your heartstrings and so you carried on with great sorrow yet that glimmer of hope residing beneath it all._

_Who told you so, dilly dilly,_  
_Who told you so?_  
_'Twas my own heart, dilly dilly,_  
_That told me so._

* * *

**_Three years later..._ **

_A cell. You were in a **fucking cell**. Like a captured animal. Although, that comparison was quite accurate when it came to you. You were more animal these days than human—and an animal is bound to be caught eventually. Now, how many animals were captured by the Resistance—that you did not know. You were most likely the first._

_Today started out like any other day, normal to you and not so normal to some—and stars how it changed._

_Waking up with sand in your shirt. How unpleasant. Get that shaken out. Find— **clean** —water. **Inhale** said clean water. Head down to the lower-than-scum market and grab some sand covered fruit, eat said sand covered fruit. Spot a wanted man sign. Verbally and physically fight a man with a snaggle-tooth for the wanted man. **Win**. Take the sign to Ye-Chub, your boss for the day—the best paying officer in town._

_“Ni moko de halonde, mei fo takka ronja. Ei ba son qui, Ye-Chub?” You spoke of claiming this man and asking if this could be your job for the week in his native language, in case of on-lookers in the casino you were in. This was your ticket out of this backwater planet, you needed this big pay. 10,000 credits. Your mouth was watering._

_Tendrils of smoke from cigarra’s sitting in ashtrays were shown swirling in the light coming from a single lamp hanging above the card table, where Ye-Chub was sitting and contemplating both your words and his next move in a game of sabacc. The smell of the cigarra’s and booze filled your nostrils, not affecting your lungs in any way considering you were once a smoker—plus you’ve been inhaling **sand** for the past month and a half. _

_You were leaning on your elbows against the table, staring at the man in the leather vest—no shirt under it for whatever reason—with a missing arm, the other arm firmly grasping a set of cards. Scars raked his shoulders surrounding the area where his left arm would have connected. In the past you’ve tried asking how in the bloody hell he lost that arm, though, you had guessed it was from **his** bounty hunting days. Still, you never once got a single word about it and you probably were never going to._

_He looked up at you with a frown, his eyebrows pulled together with the light shining down on his face, making every wrinkle stand out. Wispy blonde hair was tied back in a pony tail and a full yet trimmed beard covered his jawline. His eyes looked darker than they actually were in this light, they were rather light in both a color sense and a feeling sense. His one muscled arm put down the cards and took out his cigarra hanging in his mouth to speak to you, not minding the language you used._

_“I told you, kid. Take what you can get and you **did** that. But that pay’s a no go, **I** filed that man under the wanted list. **I** get half.” His voice was gruff and booming as he spoke. His words though—they made you growl and slam your hands down on the table making glasses of whiskey rattle and faces look up._

**_Kid._  ** _Stars, that sent you over the edge—if you weren’t already over it that is._

_“I **earned** this! I just had to almost **kill** a man for this jackass and now you’re saying because this guy was yours to start with you get half? Nuh uh, Ye-Chub.” You screeched, beseeching as you screamed at him from across the table. This little **kid** has something to say, people. Look alive._

_His bushy eyebrow raised and his eyes widened as if he had been caught—which he had in your book. He motioned over with his hand for you to come over, still keeping that wonky look plastered on his face. You dragged yourself over to him—refraining from grabbing him by the ponytail and burning his face with that cigarra._

_“Insufficient funds” He had said._

_“Can’t keep paying and not receiving.” He yelled at you._

_Complete and utter **bullshit.** He was playing you for the hell of it just like he was playing his gambling game—he cheated in that like he cheated you. You didn’t need this—didn’t deserve it either. Though, you didn’t know what you deserved really, but disrespect wasn’t it. Using his native language was deemed useless as you realized he was the only skeevy one you needed to look out for. In short, you decided to take the money and run. You needed this money—you **needed** to get out. All the money that was on that booze-soaked table was in your possession and you ran—right into the wrong hands. The same hands that put you on a ship and put you in custody. _

_Vines had collected on the walls of the cell you were in and bland stone laid under it all. Rusting cell bars stood in front of your crouched down body as you inspected your surroundings, handcuffs loosely around your wrists. You haven’t seen vegetation in years, it seemed that every planet you stayed at was either sandy as hell or stony as hell. So walking into the base of the Resistance was the most invigorating feeling you’ve had in a while. The smell of fresh lush greenery and dirt swarmed around you and you wanted to embed yourself in it. D’Qar was the name of the planet, or so you were told. You practically demanded to know where you were being held. Politeness wasn’t something you’ve been accustomed to in a while but it was still somewhere inside of you and you struggled to haul it out considering you were remanded right now._

_That’s about three counts of burglary for you now, you were chalking up a record day by day it seemed. You didn’t even know your criminal record and didn’t **want** to know it. The amount of illegal shenanigans you’ve gotten yourself into seemed boundless, half of them were when you were under the influence—well, more like a quarter of them. _

_The steel door to the holding cell room opened and you peered up to see a man in a brown officers uniform, swept back black hair, and a pair of jingling keys in his grasp. **Finally** , you get to talk yourself out of this. They seemed gullible. _

_“Come to bring me to my death sentence, officer?” Your words were laced with sarcasm. A coping mechanism._

_“Not quite. General wants to see you.” He replied, unlocking the cell door and reaching to grab your arm. A gentle hold. Not a trace of hostility. Something wasn’t right, they technically didn’t even arrest you. They looked like they had been **looking** for you in the casino and instead you found them—not on purpose, of course._

_“Why? Does he **like** talking his prisoners?”_

_He didn’t reply, just kept tugging you to where he was leading you through the vine covered grey stone hallways. Creatures and humans brushed past you two, wearing the same attire, giving you a short glance—a glance that told you they knew who you were. **But who were you actually?**_

_Your hair was falling in your face and the handcuffs restraining you stopped you from being able to move it out of your eyes. Letting out a puff of hair, it blew up and away and the back of a short woman’s braided head of greying hair came into your vision._

_“General Organa, she’s here.”_

_Organa… **Leia Organa.** Leia Organa the was the **general** of the Resistance, something you thought was just a band of officers on the lookout for all the wrong doings in the world—naive to how much there actually was. This changed everything, every story you’ve heard of her made everything come full circle. She was a rebel—a war hero. No doubt she didn’t want to hear that though. _

_She turned around to peer up at your bewildered face and her startled look turned serious as she glanced to the man who retrieved you._

_“Yes, thank you Berk. I’ve got it from here,” She took ahold of your arm and guided you, “Come over here and I’ll get those cuffs off of you.”_

_You were still in shock, you couldn’t believe who was in front of you—you had called her a **he** for fuck’s sake. You could only nod as she lead you to a small room away from the control table in the midst of the bustling Resistance leaders and members. She sat you down in a chair next to a metal desk and moved to retrieve a set of keys from a set of drawers behind her. _

_You took a moment to take a glimpse of your new surroundings and study the desk next to you. There wasn’t much, a few papers lying around, a hair clip—but what caught your attention was a small picture frame. In it, a picture of what looked to be a younger her with a black haired child, tiny hands reaching up to her as she held them tightly in her arms. Your eyes wouldn’t look away from it as you tried to make out the features of the toddler from just the profile of the little boy’s face. Was this the man she referred to as Berk? He had black hair—young enough to be her son. Or someone else?_

_A hand came into view and slammed it to face down where you could no longer inspect it anymore. Still, the image was burned into your memory and weirdly enough it caused curiosity to rise to its highest level despite it being such a simple picture. Something in you told you that boy wasn’t in her life anymore, that this was a graveyard—this **was** the only picture after all. Surely if they were still present, there would be more recent ones scattered around. Ones of the boy grown up, accomplished and powerful. But just a simple thing of the past sat on her desk, something to possibly mourn over you assumed._

_“You must be confused as to why you’re here,” She mused, chuckling to herself as she bent down to unlock the cuffs, “I know I was when I was in the same boat as you.”_

_The cuffs broke free with a cling and she gently took your wrists and began to rub them for you, something you were just about to do. You grimaced, confused, and snatched your hands away. Something about a touch as nurturing as that made you unsettled, you were used to licking your own sores—not a stranger tending to you as if they’ve known you long enough to know what soothed you._

_“Same boat?” You scoffed, already defensive, “You were never a criminal.”_

_She gave you an understanding look that was more in the eyes than anything—it felt like it reached into you, wanting to either claw out information or pull you to safety._

_“No, I was never that. Maybe to some I was, but I was lost at one point. Taken from my home and put in a environment I wasn’t familiar with.”_

_“I’m not lost, I have a purpose. And **that** shit hole?” You snickered bitterly, “That’s **not** my home.”_

_“My mistake. You’ve been there for quite a while I just—”_

_“Wait a minute. How do you know how long I’ve been there? No one’s ever been able to keep up with me.” You interrupted, feeling guarded and alert from this information. Surely they weren’t tracking you, you didn’t need that. Stars! You really were in deep shit here!_

_“We’ve been watching you. **I’ve** been watching you. You never noticed the Resistance members we sent out. That’s because they were disguised but we were always there.” She stated simply, looking you dead in the eyes as she leaned against the door._

_None of this made sense, you would know if someone was watching you. Hell, you knew if a scuzzy piece of shit was looking you up and down in the market._

_Yet, apparently you **didn’t**. _

_You felt like an damn idiot—like you had this coming for you. It was all so confusing and as you raked your mind for moments to look for, none came to mind. You never saw them. But they saw you—they saw all the illegal shit you got into. This was a fucking warrant out for your arrest._

_**“Why?”** _

_The statement that would follow your question would shift your entire view on purpose and what it meant to you and establish a future for yourself that was better than the one that currently existed for you—which was currently being found dead in a ditch someday. It would sketch out your destiny in the cosmic array of things and awaken a greater purpose within yourself. It would be your saving grace._

_**“I want to recruit you. I want you to be our first and only spy—our fresh pair of eyes.”** _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For anyone wondering, yes these are flashbacks! Risky move I know. But it will tie into the next chapter. Yes, I know this is reader insert but its kind of OFC for me and you can either put yourself in it or see this through her eyes. I was going to continue this to present, but I think I will start of chapter one with what I was going tp put in. It will tie into this don’t worry. This is the reader leaving her childhood home in the past (years before where it will pick up at) and then after 3 years of trying to find a purpose and thinking she found one in a life full of getting rid of crime WITH crime, she is taken to the Resistance where she is recruited. Next chapter will be 3 years later as well and present day. Also if anyone wondering what that last bit is, its a song called lavenders blue. It will feature a few times in the fic, almost as a peek into her thoughts. It’s something she sings when she needs to feel okay. ANYWAYS. I hope you enjoy this vague prologue! Chapter 1 should be up very soon.


	2. Farewell

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Leia Organa has many things on her mind, one of those things is a crucial secret about you. She's been hush-hush about it for too long and the sheer thought of telling you on this big day leaves her indecisive. Today is the day that you will be embarking on the long journey to find Starkiller Base and execute your mission as the only spy for the Resistance. Goodbyes linger in the air as you struggle with the reality of it all and face the fact that this may be the last time you lay your eyes on your Resistance family. Despite the sadness swarming around in the air, a hope resides in your heart—beating loud for everyone to hear.

Leia Organa did not have the time to take a slow stroll around the Resistance base to clear her head so instead she opted to swiftly walk the halls, her mind racing as equally quick. Thoughts of paperwork, unsettled issues between the Republic she'd soon have to get back to and _her_ were swarming around her brain, but still her mind chose to focus on one thing. Today was a big day after all, her mind shouldn't be elsewhere for the time being.

Buzzing in the air was hope, relief, and anticipation for what could come after today. She could feel it all around her, but unfortunately, she had to rightfully choose to ignore it. These feelings often clouded her judgement. Her eyes had seen too much in her lifetime, she knew better than to give into the hope that was promised within the dawning of a new day. These days she was alone as well, no connection with her brother or the rest of her family for that matter was present in her life anymore. All of this hope and expectancy was once something that filled her to the brim, now it was deemed utterly useless. What kept her going was things moving forward, action, and an ever present feeling of determination that she pushed out of herself everyday—not even knowing where it came from.

“General Organa! Just the woman I wanted to see.” She heard a familiar voice say, with a tone that could liven up anyone’s mood within a half a mile’s radius. Quick footsteps behind her meant that she wouldn't have to stop to let them catch up to her hastened pace.

“Poe Dameron. Nice to see you today.” Her tone was warm as usual, yet secure. Dignified. She slowed her pace as she thought it would be okay to allow herself the freedom of chatting with Poe, he most likely could already sense her anxiety. She could tell she was looking frazzled today by the way people gave her a sympathetic smile rather than their usual curt ones. As if they had just figured out she was carrying a heavy burden, one she had actually been carrying for years—decades, even.

“You’re looking like you're thinking a lot,” he wasn't wrong there, “What’s happening in that mind of yours, Doc?”

“The big leave. I’m worried about her," she scoffed, "When am I not? She's... reckless. Capable, yet reckless.” She herself was once reckless, maybe she still was in some ways. Although, a general could not be reckless so it did not play in her role there, more so in her settled life all those years ago—a big mistake. She sighed and played with the ring on her right hand anxiously. She hasn't been this anxious in a while. A, normally, frivolous feeling to her.  

Poe knew _exactly_ who she was talking about. His tone turned supportive.

“I think she’s got this. She knows what she needs to do and even I know her entire plan,” Leia looked at him with surprise in her eyes, “I helped draw it up with her for weeks, she's prepared for what could happen and has a solution for everything.”

They stopped in front of a large window that looked out on to the large forest canopy that surrounded the base and Leia found herself in deep thought as she stared out into the vegetation. Poe joined her, hands on his hips, switching his gaze from the forest to her as he waited for her to speak. He understood why she would get like this at times and knew she was searching with something other than her eyes. No one could see what she was looking at within their line of sight.

“You may be confused as to why I am going to tell you this, but I trust you Poe. And I need to get it out,” she turned to him snapping out of her hazy attempts to look through the force, “You are not to repeat it to anyone, _ever_. Do you understand?” Her tone turned serious but it held something behind it. Pride, maybe. 

He nodded and looked intently at her, already ready to put whatever she was going to tell him into a locked metal box in his mind.

She has no clue why she is saying this out loud. It's been the very thing that has been grasping at nothing in the air for years. Her heartbeat sped up. “She’s force-sensitive. I’ve known for a long time. I haven't told her for reasons I won’t mention,” he nodded understandingly but glowered with his gaze fixated on the ground, confused, “But I was planning on telling her after this. Now, I’m not so sure. What if she doesn't come back?”

“She will.” Not a trace of doubt could be found in his tone.

“Maybe it would be for the best if she _never_ knew. I hate to dictate her future like that but with Luke gone she could very easily fall into the wrong hands." The memories were still fresh in her mind. She still feel the fingers that had slipped from hers, falling into the unknown--into what could only be explained as darkness. "That’s something beyond my control, so as long as I keep it from her I have the reigns.” She hugged her arms securely and closed her eyes. Maybe if she stayed like this long enough she would start to feel like Han was holding her. Or Luke.

“I understand. But I have to ask, does she not sense it within herself?”

Leia put a hand to her temple in deep thought, trying to make things come together in her currently stormy mind. “It would seem that she doesn’t. But I fear that she will, I can feel her more strongly at times. She could trigger it any day.”

“Then I think it would be best to tell her, but that’s just my input.” He then chose too, to gaze out into the abyss.

“Tell who what?” An inquisitive, chipper voice asked behind them.

They whipped around to look at the source of the voice in a slight panic, wondering how much the voice had heard.

* * *

_Deep breaths. In. Out. In. Out. Inhale. Exhale._

“You have got this. You know your plan. This is just like any old mission.”

A few hairpins were in your mouth, making your speech come out a bit muffled and your fingers were entangled in your knotty hair as you braided it down your back. The large floor length length mirror offered another person to talk to, though it was just another you. You talked to yourself in hopes that this would suffice as a last minute pep talk. It actually pretty pathetic, hardly a pep talk and more of an oral journal entry. To any onlooker it would seem bizarre, even. 

Sticking the last few hairpins in your hair, you let out a breath and braced yourself with your hands on your knees. Your arms shook at bit as you focused on calming yourself down. Anxiety was coming out to play today and your body threatened to give. The grimy floor wasn't the most _calming_ thing to stare at but at least it told you you were still standing. The weight of it all seemed light—painless—when you had first been given this mission and the weeks leading up to it were smooth sailing with help from Poe. He would stay up late with you mapping out plans, laughing at how delirious you two were in the wee hours of the morning and on occasion drinking some whiskey to calm the nerves.

And maybe to just get shit-faced... okay, maybe it was _only_ to get shit-faced.

Now you stand here alone, with not even hours to go before you leave, feeling like there was about 3 tons sitting on your shoulders. **_Stars_** , you needed that whiskey now for more than just calming nerves. Goodbyes awaited you outside the door and you were sure that it would affect you more than the others here in the Resistance. This place was beginning to feel like home, not fully there yet, but it was a good start. And it could end today. You could be going back to the routine of smuggling precious cargo, yourself, onto ships with a destination to a distant planet you didn't know of. You'd seen a lot doing that in the past, but it wasn't nearly as fulfilling as having one sole purpose. One line of duty. Back then, you were all over the place. The life of a bounty hunter was what you were making for yourself and it wasn't even in the plan. You were just a kid—still were to some folks. It was always "Fetch this person, bring them there." or "Bring this wanted man to this planet dead or alive." Though, you opted for the latter choice when it came down to it—lugging around a dead body _wasn't_ your thing. 

A knock at the door interrupted you from your inner monologue and judging by the metal sound of it, you presumed it would be a certain urgent being in need of you to hurry up. 

You moved to open your door and was greeted by none other than C-3PO.

“Ah yes! You’re still in your quarters, I’m so glad I caught you. Princess, err, General Organa has requested that you be ready soon. All crew is ready for your departure.” He always accidentally let princess slip out when he referred to her, you guessed it was only natural for him considering his view on her from the past.

“Thank you, Threepio.” You waved him in and went to your restroom to splash some cold water on your face, “I suspect she's worried about me, am I right?”

“Your suspicions are correct but what _else_ would you expect from her?” His tone was as worrisome as ever, still had that continuous gleeful ring to it though. Probably the accent.

Turning on the sink, you watched the water quickly cascade down into the sink bowl. Some hair and toothpaste was stuck to the wetness of the sink. You ought to clean that later. When would there ever be a later though? Everything was now or never right now, but cleaning your sink could wait. The slightest hint of OCD was taking over what was actually worth focusing on so you literally shook your thoughts away by shaking your head. Hearing Threepio going on about something, you tried directing your attention to him again, staring at him and nodding your head. You didn’t know how long he had been talking or what he was even talking about. He probably did this a lot. Poor thing. Ever since Artoo had shut down he had no side kick, so you became a makeshift one in his eyes. Come to think of it, you never really agreed to it— it just _happened_.

Finally doing what you intended to do in here, you splashed some cold water on your face. The contrast of your heated face and the wet coolness of the water was just what you needed and you reveled in it for a bit. Grabbing the towel that hung behind the bathroom door, you patted your face dry and gave one last long look at yourself in the mirror. Bags under your eyes from a restless night were coming out to play. A scar above your lip was pinkish from irritating its sensitive nature with the towel. Baby hairs were already starting to stick out and curl around the frame of your face and a slight flush was already beginning to show on your sun-kissed cheeks.

Well, this is as good as it going to get.

Stepping out of the bathroom, you grabbed your black jumpsuit off your bed and slipped your legs through it in a hurry but tied the long sleeves around your waist. It was a hot climate on D’Qar and you were **not** about to sweat even more than you already were. That was a luxury you would allow yourself. You shoved your boots on and tied them good and tight. One last step and you were out. Grabbing your blaster holster, you slung it over your shoulder. Thank the stars you were fit because this thing was _heavy_.

“Come now, we should go and find the General at once.” Threepio headed out your door as fast as he could manage and you followed suit. You took one last glance around the tiny room. It was fit for an ewok king, that's for sure. But, it suited you well and it was more than you had ever been given in years when you first walked in. A bed was a big thing for you after sleeping on anything you fell asleep on for years. Then, you shut the light off and closed the door behind you and locked it.

As soon as your walked outside of your quarters you saw that people and creatures alike were walking around doing their duties for the day. But when they saw you they stopped, gave a smile that seemed to say “farewell”, and left with you nothing but a memory to them. You returned them all reluctantly, it wasn't easy for you to say goodbye to this sight. To having a purpose, the one thing you were after in life. The hustle and bustle of the Resistance buzzed everyday as everyone had something worthwhile to do at all times. It was a busy environment and you adapted to its nature fairly quickly upon your first arrival here, which was coming up on two years ago come to think of it.

Time’s fun when you’re having flies—or vice versa.

The occasional single pat on your shoulder from people who knew you well was given as you walked through the hallways, searching for Leia with Threepio and weary eyes. You almost didn't want to find her soon so it would buy time and you could prepare yourself longer to say goodbye to her. She had taken you in at a time when you needed it the most, you'd admit to that. Her arms were the most welcoming ones you had seen in a while, a mothers embrace you sensed. Whom she was really a mother to, that was a mystery. But, she was most definitely a mother figure to you. So needless to say, this goodbye was one you were dreading. You have left so many places and people without knowing when you would be back and for once in your life you hadn't done that for a long period of time. A steady pace had been set in motion for you here, with steady people at your side. _Steady_. That was a word you were sure you would miss one day. It's been a while since you've had anyone believe in you, to stick by your side. People had your back here and you slowly started to return the favor, learning that you shouldn't have to carry burdens alone. So, you knew without a doubt you would always come back. You had to.

But this timethis time was different. No amount of skill could save you from a fate that was worse than death. Death seemed like the better option to you, it would be an instant relief. Though you were never one to give up in the face of danger, if it came down to you in shackles—you would seek after the relief of death. A prisoner was something you were never meant to be. 

As you rounded a corner, down the hallway in front of a large window you spotted General Organa and… Poe? _Damn him._ If he was talking up your game to her, you would _actually_ kill him. He knows you're, in his words, "panicky" about today and your confidence was shaken. She did not need to see that if he was telling her otherwise. You started to walk a bit faster towards them and the closer you got you could feel the energy around you change—the _mood_ change. A regretful and anxious feeling filled the once buzzing, hopeful air that surrounded you. You shook it off as your own feelings but when you felt a burning in your throat you almost coughed out a greeting to them.

Were your anxiety levels really **this** high?

“Then I think it would be best to tell her, but that’s just my input.” Poe's words reached your ears. Damn it, he really was talking up your game. He probably just told her to tell you some proud speech. Oh god, is she promoting you? You slowed to a normal walk as you reached them.

“Tell who what?” They whipped around at this and both of their eyes were widened, they looked as if they had just been caught harassing a Bantha.

“What?" They both said in unison.

Okay, _something_ was up. Whether or not you were going to get to the bottom of it was unclear.

“Dameron, what were you telling her?” You crossed your arms across your chest and leaned on your hip, giving him a slight pout.

He opened his mouth to speak but Leia cut him off. “ _Actually_ , it was me who was telling him something. But that doesn't matter right now, you need to be ready to leave. You're not wearing that are you? Didn't we discuss that it’s an icy planet?” She was already scolding you with that maternal tone she used around you at times. It wasn't all the time that she was like this but you when you sense that she’s on edge, she tends to take her motherly worries out on you. Oddly enough, you would miss it.

Poe gaped at her while she walked off as if she had just done something terrible. Whatever was going on you weren't going to question it right now, if it was important she’d tell you. Leia brushed past and you looked down at her a bit as she did. She was pretty short, you were too but not quite as small as her. She gestured her hand for you to follow her and you obeyed without question. 

“I’ll put on my jumpsuit fully when I get ready to leave. And _yes_ I have a warmer coat at the ready in my ship along with other things. I also have warm underclothes.” No promises you would actually use these though and she knew that. You sent her an innocent grin after you finished. She opened and closed her mouth a few times wanting to speak as you did but you've heard it all before.   

“And don't forget your holopad. I’ll be calling you shortly after you’re out of the Ileenium system.” Well, you knew almost everything she was about to say. You nodded and patted your pocket to signify that it was in there.

“Good girl. You know me well.” She sighed and grabbed your arm as you two rounded the corner that led outside where X-Wings and other ships sat atop ferrocrete and gravel, ready to be used in the name of justice. What a normal sight this has become to you, even the smell was a significant factor in this. Green grass and lush landscapes surrounded the ships and the figures in orange, some in brown officer attire, contrasted the scene. The familiar faces of people you had grown to know well were all waiting to bid you farewell. It tugged at your heart to know you may either never see these faces again or not see them for a long time. Spotting a specific face in the crowd you were _dying_ to see, you ran over to them.

You embraced them tightly and you two swayed back and forth. Pulling back, you found that you had tears blurring your vision.

“Jessika, I am going to miss you so much. I wish I could take your guidance, and those killer thighs, with me.” You laughed sadly and she smiled at you.

“Don’t get _too_ sappy on me. And you can, it will be with you! Except for the thighs, sorry.” Both of you let out a giggle from that. You nodded and wiped at your eyes. Stepping back from her, you two waved at each other.

Spinning around, you were surrounded by a crowd of people whom you knew so well. You ran down to where the crowd started and gave high fives, hugs, a clasp of hands, anything that was a gesture of saying goodbye. At the end of the crowd was Poe and Threepio, and you ran to them as well. You practically tackled Poe as you jumped into his arms and hugged him as he laughed a hearty laugh right in your ear. It would probably ring later.

The smile on your face couldn't get any bigger or sadder as you felt hot tears stream down your face. You couldn't even begin to contain yourself at this point.

“You don't forget about me okay? P, you’re my best friend,” Choking back a sob, you laughed a bit, “And don't do anything stupid while I’m gone!” You yelled at him.

He squeezed you tighter and swayed. “Hey, I would never do that. or that. You know me.” You really did. Nodding your head, you wiggled to put your feet down fully on the ground. Sniffling, you wiped at your eyes and he took your hand from them and kissed it once.

“You got this. I believe in you. You won't be gone long, that I know.” He smiled brightly and squeezed your hand one last time before letting it drop to your side.

You backed away from him to move to bid Threepio a farewell. Even though he couldn't hold expressions, he seemed rather distraught that you were leaving. His makeshift partner in crime was leaving him. You almost felt bad. Almost.

“It has been so good to be by your side. I wish you the best of luck and safe travels, young one.” You snorted, his formality was always something you looked forward to hearing after long days of speaking smuggler’s cant during missions to see what others were doing in the galaxy. You’d miss that contrast.

“Thank you, Threepio. I will miss you, you know.”

“Oh, you will? Oh! I’m so delighted, I thought you thought of me as a nuisance.”

“Well I can’t completely disagree with that. But, yes I will miss even the most pestering of droids.” You giggled and waved to him as you walked backwards. You took a deep breath and spun around to face one last person.

Leia was looking at you with great pride and a deep sadness in her eyes. A sadness that transcended among others, you knew. Her gaze was locked on you, so transfixed by the pure and raw emotion around her. She almost seemed to be looking around you as well, as if something was surrounding you. You walked to where she was standing in front of your ship and she opened her arms to embrace you. A mothers embrace, the last one you would feel for who knows how long. You accepted it gratefully and her head laid on your shoulder as she held you securely before letting it rest just underneath your nose.

You took her in—her scent, her essence, her eyes. Everything. She smelled of a sweet perfume and wet grass, like she always did. Her hair in her normal braided updo, a hairdo meant to keep hair out of her face so she could work but had an elegance to it that seemed to reflect her past. Same General’s uniform, not so neatly folded sleeves up to her elbows. All of these components made up General Leia Organa—these and a tough snarky attitude and an undeniable love for the people around her. Knowing every name and every shred of doubt. Giving her all despite the obvious darkness to her eyes that had seen too much and the plain in sight weight on her small, yet strong shoulders.

Still, she was rooted in her cause and planted the seeds of those who wished to follow suit, nurturing the blossoming buds. Somewhere along the way, she nurtured you back to heath, as you were but a withering flower—shriveled up and ready to die. A tough job in and of itself. Granted, she was determined and she was Leia Organa. If anyone could straighten you out, though you were still a bit crooked, it was her.      

“We love you so much!” Poe shouted from behind you both and you two laughed while your remained embracing. She pulled away before you were ready to but you knew if she hadn't done so you would have never. All of this was feeling all too familiar.

“Be safe. Stay safe, my love.” She whispered to you and your mouth gaped open as you stared at her with wonder. Tears brimmed your eyes as you nodded, completely dumbfounded. _Deja Vu_. Those words from your mother on that awful day were still fresh in your mind. Did she _know?_

Numbly, you walked to your ship, each step feeling heavier by the second. You turned to look at everyone one last time before boarding your ship. Hope filled your heart the moment you laid eyes on everyone.

Your family. This was beginning to be  _your_ family. And there was only one thing you knew to do when you were saying goodbye to family.

You placed your hand on your heart and then raised it up in the air. No one knew what that meant, but to you, it was everything. You would always appreciate this bunch, no matter what happened. No matter where you went.

You then whistled with your fingers and waved as you watched everyone do the same. Boarding your ship, you suddenly felt a feeling of safety come over you. As if someone were sending it to you-as if it were a letter meant just for you. It made your eyes not feel as heavy and the coarse burning in your throat subside. It made things okay for the time being.

You continued on with your normal routine before take off, making sure everything was good to go and then powering up the ship, switching on the controls needed to go and then you were off—off to find Starkiller Base.

 _Lavender’s blue, dilly dilly,_  
_Lavender’s green,_  
_When you are king, dilly dilly,_  
_I shall be queen_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There goes that damn flower song again. So, I might get some crap about making the reader and Leia close, but thats the point. Also, I have a headcanon that Leia likes to chat with Poe and trusts him a lot, hence the reason she told him the big secret *wink* This chapter was sad and fun to write, I liked how it came together. And Jessika showed up! Hope you enjoyed! Tell me if you did, I’d love to hear x


	3. Are We There Yet?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Your piloting adventures begin as you partake in the long journey to discover Starkiller Base. Your patience is truly tested with an old friend of yours onboard and trials are tough, as flying through space is no walk in the park. Whatever you discover, though, and what lies ahead jostles you as a whole.

You were never one to get fidgety under pressure, but right now fidgety was the only word to correctly describe you. The angry beeps sounding throughout your bulky ship weren’t helping and as you translated them to yourself, the meaning only made it worse. And it was coming from the sassiest droid in the galaxy. 

_Are you serious? A “Hello” would suffice, you know!_

You cringed visibly while piloting your ship at the droid, _your_ droid, as it blatantly displayed its problem with you. Whatever its goal was, it was accomplishing it. You had absolutely no excuse for this one. Being out yelled by BB-3. Check that off your very overdone bucket list.

“Beeree, stop. Okay? I’m not exactly thinking straight right now.” That earned an exasperated beep. “And you weren’t in the right place in the ship, **anyways**! I didn’t even _see_ you!”

_Well I hope you’re flying straight. And you have eyes, use them._

Use them you would, not for the purposes it wanted though. You turned around and glared at the black and white spherical droid, still keeping your hands firmly on the control. If it wasn’t for the profound bond you two shared, you’d kick that droid into the void right now if you could. Beeree and you met when a rookie mission went south and you found yourself lost and in a heap of trouble. The chances of you coming up with an on the spot successful plan were slim to none. Along came Beeree to save your lost ass and direct you to where you needed to go, thus creating the dream team. Although, it wasn't a dream that had occurred to you. Still, it was nice to call it that. 

“I _am_. Why do you constantly think I’m going to get us killed?” You spoke through clenched teeth. The ship shuddered in response, clearly disagreeing with you. Turning back around to focus on where you were going, you prepared to go into hyperspace.

_Oh, I don’t know, Kid. Maybe because you **wrecked** your last ship._

“Well I’m not going to _this_ time.” You mumbled under your breath, tapping buttons and checking signals. A buzz was felt coming from the pocket of your jumpsuit and a light illuminated with it, telling you someone was trying to reach you from your holopad. You winced, nervous. Getting it out of your pocket you put it on the dash of the cockpit and, as expected, saw Leia pop up on it. Beeree beeped excitedly, giving out a greeting to the General.

“Beeree! I want to apologize for not saying goodbye, the Resistance appreciates your help immensely and will miss you.”

_It’s all good, General. I’ll be seeing you!_

“Soon, I would hope.” She gave a small, warm smile.

You sat there with a frown on your face as you listened to them catch up a bit. Shifting your gaze from Leia to Beeree, who was now next to you, you clicked your tongue sassily and interrupted them. “So, why is it okay for **her** to not acknowledge you and not **me**?” 

_Maybe I like her more._

You stick your tongue out at the droid and flip the bird for a second, laughing as the droid visibly got more agitated. A series of beeps that translated to curses streamed out and Leia rubbed her forehead tiredly. How she was able to put up with you, you hadn't the slightest clue of. It was a tough job. 

“Okay you two, not now.”

_Truce?_

“Truce.” With that Beeree rolled off, leaving you alone to talk to Leia.

Leia’s attention wasn’t focused on the camera so she was looking at you, instead it was focused upward and her eyes seemed to be scanning the readings that were being sent in from your ship being tracked.

“I see that you’re out of the Illeenium system.” She mused.

“Yes. Actually, I was just about to go into hyperspace when you called,” your attention returned back to the scene before you, “You know, I’m really doubting it’s even there, though it makes sense to have it located in the Unknown Regions. I just think it’s almost too predictable considering it was thought that the Empire would once extend all the way the the Unknown Regions. Our search for Starkiller Base has been fruitless and now all of a sudden it’s whereabouts are known?”

You shook your head and grimaced, “I just don’t buy it.”

These things you knew to be true. Spending some extra time nose deep in books seemed to have paid off, you knew your stuff when it came to missions and to you it was required. Researching as much as you could to know all possible details about your missions or finding all possible outcomes was what made you successful. Knowledge is power is your mind.

“You know what you’re in for and we very likely could find nothing which would put us far back in the race to gain control over the situation.” Her tone was warning and even through the blue grainy, static image of the hologram you could see that her eyes held a plea behind them. Something you could not ignore even if you tried your damned hardest. It was times like this that you fought to stay neutral, this job was all you ever wanted to do, to be, in your life. It just so happens that you’re doing it for the Resistance. But General Leia and the people of the Resistance changed something within you—so much so that you don’t know if you could ever leave now. What could possibly make you leave? **Who** could?

Staring into nothingness, you nodded in agreement. “I know. It’s just with me being-“

She stopped you mid sentence. “I understand,” you looked to her and pursed your lips in a small smile, “Anyways. I’ll be tracking your ship till I feel that you’re safe.”

“Stop worrying, damn it. You worry about everyone,” she chuckled at your words and shrugged, “Take a load off, General.”

“I wont make any promises,” you watched her hesitate for a moment, you could practically see the gears turning in her mind, “I’ll see you off now. May the force be with you.”

And with that she was gone, she cut off the call. _Suspicious_. An empty silence enveloped you, nothing was heard except for the quiet hum the ship brings. Your gaze was still fixated on where her image was just displayed on the dash of the ship. The glow from the control console now the only illumination on your skin and glossy eyes.

A series of three beeps snapped you out of the trance you seemed to be in, only this time it was not the droid speaking to you. It was a warning beep from the sensors on the ship. Your gaze focused from where you were staring into space, to focus on literally staring into space. And this space was filled with asteroids coming right towards you! Your heart leapt into your throat at the sight and a wave of nausea came over you. Oh, **hello**. 

“ **Shit!** ” you cursed under your breath, reaching to pull straps over you for better security.

You act fast to take charge of the ship, flipping switches and pressing buttons. Securing a tight grip on your control handle, you begin to thrust the ship straight into the current of the asteroid belt instead of trying to turn around. That would be a waste of time and a pain in the ass to do. The movements of the ship were rough and jerky as you weaved yourself through both the massive and small asteroids, causing you to have to brace your leg on the chair next to you so you didn’t almost slide off yours.

“Stars, fucking help me.” You screamed aloud to no one in particular.

_I told you! I told you you would get us killed!_

“Beeree, shut the _hell_ up! I’ve got this!” Beeps were loud and the roar and creaks of the ship filled your ears to the point you could barely hear what you or Beeree were saying.

_Then do it!_

You both let out your own type of scream as one comes hurdling toward you and you make the quick decision to use its momentum to your advantage and turn away from it just before the ship crashes into it. A clank coming from the side of the ship tells you you only grazed it. This rather preposterous move leads you to a clearing, returned to the vacuum of space. You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding and it came out shaky as if you were shivering. Only, you weren't. 

Feeling claustrophobic all of a sudden, you practically rip off the straps around you and put the ship on autopilot. You slump in your chair, your breathing and heartbeat erratic. Beeree was scolding you but the sound of your heartbeat was thrumming so loud in your ears that your mind seemed to tune the droid out itself.

 _Stupid, stupid._ A sudden rage seemed to flow through your veins and frustration was entangled in it. Your hands were in your hair that was falling out of its braid, pulling it slightly at the scalp in an attempt to control yourself.

“Fucking **fuck**. Motherfucking piece of shit!” You kicked the wall of the ship next to you. It wasn’t even the ships fault. It was still a piece of shit, though.

From somewhere in the ship a buzz was heard, no doubt from the holopad. Growling, you got up and moved to the sound of the buzzing against the metal floor of the ship, picking it up when you found it. Leia’s pacing figure and, to put it simply, pissed the fuck off face popping up as soon as you tapped it to answer. Angrily, you walk over to your pilot seat and throw the holopad on the dash again, sitting down with a pouty huff and arms folded. Your expression was deadpan as you readied yourself for a scolding of a lifetime. This one would be one for the books, no doubt.

“What the **hell** was that? Are you kidding me? You should have been paying closer attention. Oh, I should have known better than to call you. In fact, I shouldn’t even be calling you right now.” Talking a mile a minute, she then hung up after that quick scolding.

You blinked.

_What **actually** just happened?_

“I’m wondering the same thing, B.” You rubbed your temples trying to work out the knots of stress in your mind.

_Are you okay? Are you hurt?_

You hadn’t even though of that. You were so in the moment, so  _immersed_ in the movement of the ship. It almost felt like an out of body experience. Where that instinct to not think and only do came from, you didn’t know. Slowly, you became aware of what you now felt as your trembling body. A tingling, floating sensation seemed to run its course through your bloodstream. Adrenaline no doubt. Looking at your side, legs, and arms, you checked for injuries of any sort. Your fingers felt a wetness on the top of your thigh and you lifted your hand to see your skin tinted with red blood smeared on them. Turning your thigh, a rip in the tight black fabric of your jumpsuit revealed a somewhat deep gash on the side of your thigh. Inspecting eyes turned to widened eyes. You could feel the pain more intensely as your eyes looked upon it, your body not quite coming down from its high of whatever it was that just happened. You’d live, that's for sure. 

_Oh. You need a medkit. Like right now._

“I know,” You sighed and winced a bit as you moved to get up, “I think it’s in the back.”

Standing up to your not-so-grand full height, you walked stiffly to the back part of the ship and rummaged through a crate of junk till you spotted the medkit you were looking for. You opened up the medkit and got out a field cauterizer and some gauze.

“This is going to hurt like a bitch.” You muttered to yourself. It was always _something_. You would have screamed into the void asking why you couldn't ever catch a break, but in all honesty, you never _gave_ yourself one. Problem 1 of 847392. 

_That shit looks like a stylus from hell. In fact, I think it **is** one._

You sighed. Where’s the whiskey when you truly need it? In this situation, it would suffice as a topical anesthetic.

Pressing the button down on the top of the stylus like object, a low frequency laser beam shot out of it. You rolled up your pants and propped your leg up on a bench meant for sitting, though you’ve never used it till now. At least you’re putting it to use.

You gave yourself a moment to take a few deep breaths. This was going to be just _delightful_. You carefully pried open the wound slightly with steady fingers, its innards shiny with blood. Lowering the cauterizer down to your wound, laser beam ignited, a searing pain instantly shot through your entire leg and you hissed. Slowly the pain faded away as you kept the beam on your wound and it was being replenished with relief. You let out a long sigh, the feeling coursing through you was something between gratification and misery.

“ **Fuck.** ”

_I agree. I can’t look. Disgusting._

You rolled your eyes at that. What a _drama droid._

Once you felt things were all good to go for the time being, you lifted your thumb from the button. The air no longer stung the wound and it wasn’t opened up anymore—the vulnerability it gave off gone with the pain. The bleeding had stopped, although it wasn’t fully healed. At least this started the healing process. It was just good enough for you.

_Is it over? Can I look?_

“Yeah, B.” You let out a breath and swung your leg off the bench. “It’s safe to look.”

_Oh! That’s not so bad._

You shot the droid a heated glare as you went to walk back to the pilot’s chair, ready to resume your mission. Was the entire galaxy against you today? Enough of all this shit.

_Sorry. I’m happy you’re okay. Thank you for being okay._

The droid let out a series of happy and chipper beeps as it wiggled in one place. You let out a breathy laugh, “It’s fine, B. I’m fine.”

Settling down into the pilot’s chair, you got ready to go into hyperspace. Fatigue was starting to settle into your system already, but you shook it out of you mentally, for rest was not something in your agenda. Many other important things came before rest, in fact, rest may be the last thing on your mind right now.

The blue tunnel of hyperspace enveloped you as you were en route to the Unknown Regions, which was outside of the Outer Rim and where the ominous Starkiller Base was located. Glancing at your screen that showed where you were, you estimated when you would need to stop and the realization that you would have to enter the planet at light speed unsettled you a bit. You could crash very easily. Left to die on the barren, snow ridden planet. Beeree wailing in the distance. And yet, if you wanted to go unseen, this was a necessary precaution you needed to take.

Seeing that you reached the Unknown Regions, you stopped all controls for hyperspace quickly. What you saw was incredibly terrifying, it felt like it was devouring you as you looked up in awe at it. In front of you, a good distance away, was the colossal Starkiller Base. It was astronomical, nothing you had ever thought about it being. You knew it would be big, huge even. But this was so _immense_ it felt like it was sucking you in, like it was a magnet and you were the only thing in the galaxy that was magnetic. Across the area that was facing you, was a manmade ravine of sorts, its depth creating the ominous look you expected it to have. In the center, there seemed to be a huge gaping hole but it appeared to be manmade as well—and unfinished at that.

_Someone’s compensating for something._

You snorted. “Yeah, no kidding.” You continued to gape at the almost awe-inspiring planet in front of you.

“We fucking found it. Let’s bring a little _welcoming_ package, shall we?" You thought about your words for a second. "Actually, let's just try not to be seen."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Field cauterizer/laser cauterizer - A Field cauterizer was a sixteen-centimeter-long device shaped like a stylus with a button on the end. It was used to burn wounds shut, disinfecting and cauterizing, by emitting a low-frequency laser beam. These items were standard equipment in New Republic medkits.
> 
> Shit. I’m tired. I finished this at 4:40 AM but when you’re reading this it’ll be like midday Saturday or something for you and you’ll be well rested. You bitch. Anyways, so the reader has made it to Starkiller Base without (major) injuries!!!! YAAAAA get ready for Kylo to come in, he’s sort of a jerk but not really. Like a nice jerk. He's trying.  
> I have no clue when the next chapter will be up, it’s pretty crazy so far.  
> Hope you enjoyed, let me know x


	4. Into The Inferno

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A crash landing into both Starkiller Base and reality sends you into overdrive. Physically and mentally, you as a person are truly tested as you trek through the icy tundra of the isolated planet. Words of strength spoken by the strongest linger in your mind as you embark on this mission, words that you have yet to decipher. Words that you know to be of great importance. But are they valid to you?

Overthinking was something you had _always_ struggled with. Whether it was over the simplest of things or a situation like right now—plummeting into the spectacular and isolated planet of Starkiller Base. It would seem that landing wasn't your best expertise. In fact, you were pretty fucking terrible at it. And this particular landing was going to get messy as hell. At least you got the job done.

_I know you got this and I’m on your side and all, but is this action imperative?_

“As crazy as it is, B, yes. I can't land like normal here. Place is **filled** with those bucket heads!” Your throat was beginning to feel coarse from all of the yelling that was taking place. The velocity from your ship essentially crashing and the groans it emitted filled your body with adrenaline and a focus—a drive.

“Alright, I need to go lower! Prepare yourself!” A series of confirming beeps told you Beeree was actually listening to you for once. Beeree held themselves in place with rods that extended out from their spherical body to latch onto the walls of a corridor behind you. Where can you get those? You were practically falling out of your seat.

Switching the necessary controls quickly in order to conceal yourself in the tree line ahead of you, your body jostled like a rag doll from the drastic change in angles. At this point, it would be a miracle if no one has seen you and squadrons weren't being sent out.

Trees and snow splattered against the viewport of the cockpit and snapping, crunching sounds came from the back of the ship as it flattened trees in its path. If you didn't have a clear view soon, you'd be dead. It would be too late to act fast in an attempt to save yourself. A mountain side could be in front of you for all you knew or a cliff that would send you plummeting into nothingness. Or worse, a Sarlacc pit. You knew the old tales.

_I can literally **see** you overthinking, snap out of it._

“I can’t help it! I-I don't know what to do.” For the first time, you were truly doubting yourself. What lied ahead you could manage with ease, but trying to handle a possible terrible situation right now put you in a panic. As the ship remained crashing, you were crashing as well—only you were crashing into reality rather than icy debris.

You braced yourself for what may come, shutting your eyes tightly when you caught a glimpse a clearing approaching rapidly. Feeling that the ship was starting to come to a steady halt, you blindly reached for the console in front of you and held onto it for dear life.

You never considered yourself spiritual but in that moment you sent a silent prayer to the stars that you A: Wouldn't be blown to pieces and B: You wouldn't shit yourself if A happened.

Then, silence filled the ship save for a quiet whistle of blustery wind that could be heard from outside. No longer feeling the rapid progression, you guessed it was safe to open your eyes.

It wasn't the landing working out that surprised you but where it took you. Audibly gasping, you stood up to peer through an area of the window that wasn't covered in snow. You had to squint your eyes at the bright white glow of the snow but they quickly widened when you realized that was all you could see.

All around you, barren land covered in a thick blanket of snow threatening you with its extremities in temperature. The mere thought of the surface temperature made you shiver. Space was cold, though comfortable to you after spending years in it, but this seemed capable of freezing your blood. 

“Boy, am I glad I brought winter gear.” You let out a breathy laugh, astonished. The planet was beautiful, vicious in a sense, but beautiful. If it wasn't for the First Order, you could easily see this being an adventure spot for you. There was no time for that now, though.

_I hate this place, already. Can’t I just stay here? My bolts could freeze over!_

“Love the enthusiasm, B. Really.” You rolled your eyes. Stepping up on a step, you hissed at the pain that shot up your leg from the wound on it. It would be a while till that leg started feeling normal again. Then again, nothing felt normal anymore. You walked over to a hidden compartment in the ship that contained your weapons and other rather useless junk. It had become a hobby of sorts to collect ancient books and junk along the way. Thinking of missions as an adventure as well wasn't hard for you to do, it even helped you. Kept the edge off.

_That doesn't answer my question._

You curled your lip in deep thought as you contemplated leaving Beeree here and rummaged through the compartment. A few books were scattered around in it messily, most likely from the crash. Some random rocks, a small instrument of some sort, and an old cup of caf that probably hadn't been touched in weeks sat in there as well. The actually useful items such as your trusty blaster and your rucksack were what you needed, though. You grabbed your rucksack and roughly opened it. The smell of old artifacts and leather filled your nostrils instantly, a scent that would normally bring back nostalgia. But since you had no notable history with it, none was brought forth to your mind.

Having forgotten what you put inside of it, you were surprised at what you found as it seemed silly. An old camera and more books with the spines falling apart were inside of it. Your mothers ring lay glimmering at the bottom of it, bringing a contrast against the worn leather and you felt your inspecting gaze harden. You sighed and closed the rucksack, deciding to leave everything in there and take it with you. With a thud, you let it drop next to your feet. Grabbing your blaster pistol, you shoved it into the holder on your thigh.

Sighing, you stared the cup of caf with a stink eye. _It_  would soon become an ancient artifact if you didn’t get rid of it now so you grabbed it to throw it in a bin across the room. You closed the door to the compartment and turned on your heels to face Beeree, who would have been tapping their foot impatiently if they could.

The **sass** that droid could convey, damn.

“You’re staying. I can send the mapping of the base to the ship and from there you need to download that information. I’ll get back to get you. When? I don't know.” You sighed and played with the end of your long braid nervously. Beeree rolled up to you and let out a concerned sad beep. The droid still cared for you, despite the absence of support and the plethora of sarcasm it gave. It was clear that at the end of the day you two were truly partners in crime. Well, maybe not crime. More so justice.

“It’s okay,” You crouched down to it’s level and placed a hand on its side, “Whatever happens, happens. But I _will_ get the information.” You sent a sad smile its way and Beeree tilted their head to the side before nudging you.

_You got your ring?_

“Yeah. I’ve got it, it was still in there from last time.” You patted the rucksack beside you to signify that it was in there, safe and sound. The ring was almost like a good luck charm, or maybe it was a reminder of why you were where you were today. Your mother had given it to you when she found out you would be leaving home to find an unknown purpose in life. It was rather simple thing and you hadn't exactly figured out its true meaning, if there was one that is. It was a golden band with a big and a, what seemed to be hollow, golden hexagon shape at the top. You’ve never opened it to find out what was inside of it—if there was anything at all. 

_Don’t forget your jacket. And your holopad. And your compass._

“Yeah sure thing, _General Organa_.” Beeree certainly sounded like her at the moment. You chuckled and stood up from your crouched position. It was a heavy thing, that jacket. You grabbed it from the back of your seat and slipped it on. Black textured leather and places for objects to be held made it heavy. It was another artifact that you actually stole, though it wasn't exactly ancient. Quite new, actually. Leia was not amused. 

You took a moment to grab your gloves, leather as well. That seemed to be your getup nowadays. You took your holpad off the floor and then searched around in your jacket for a compass. Feeling it in an inside pocket, you fished for it for a moment before retrieving it to study it. It had dirt encrusted in its rim and scratches on the surface of it. Narrowing your eyes you scratched off the dirt with your nail, adding even more dirt under your fingernails whilst doing this. You couldn't remember how this came into your possession but that didn't matter. It held a great significance by just being what it was. You couldn't help but think your moral compass wasn't too accurate these days, but this one sure as hell was. Seeing that it was clean enough for you, you gave it a satisfied nod and tucked it back into your jacket.

“How does one go about this, huh?” You mumbled to yourself, grabbing your things and getting ready to depart your ship. That was that. It was rather unceremonious, as expected. Just casually going to go sneak into the enemy’s base, no biggie. Hey, I'm here to fuck things up, what's your name? Kicking ass and taking names is mine. 

_Please stay safe. Please come back to me._

“Can’t make any promises, B. You know that. But, I will try my damnedest to,” you crouched down to the droids level once more, “Also, the ship is hidden well. You should be safe.” You patted the droid gently. Such a weird connection you could have with machine. Only, you didn't even feel that Beeree was just machine and they were at times more human than real humans you had come across. Sympathy was the first emotion you had felt from this droid of yours and that seemed to come into play in this moment. 

Beeree let out a whimpering sound, saddened by the departure. You sighed, you couldn't blame them. Standing up to your full height, you nodded stiffly to the droid and carried yourself strongly to the exit of your ship.

_I’ll be seeing you._

You heard the droid say its farewell and it made you want to pick it up and hug it and if it weren't so damn heavy you would have.

“You too!” You shouted back to it as you were almost to the exit door. Reaching the door, you braced yourself for the cold before punching the button that would reveal the outside world to you.

The door slid open and a blast of cold air and flurries of snow basically slapped you in the face and you lifted your hands up to shield your face from it all. In an instant, the bitter cold had already begun to sting the high points of your cheekbones and tip of your nose. You left your gloved hands in front of yourself as you walked out into the blizzard scene, the snow crunching and squeaking under your boots as you walked to where a number pad was to lock the ship. You punched in the code and tried to move strands of hair that were in your mouth and eyes but gave up when the wind viciously made them return to their spot located on your face. It would be wise to wait out the wind to lower the risk of, well to put it simply,  _dying_ before you got indoors—but you were no nomad full of wisdom. Didn't have time for it, anyways. You were a spy and had no time for feel-good mumbo jumbo.

 _May the force be with you_ , Leia’s words danced in your head for a moment as you headed off into the icy abyss. What did that mean? Only small mentions of a power binding everything together were told to you and it wasn't like it was an important factor in your life. Still, you urged on a focus in your mind thinking that would help something be with you. _Something…_

* * *

 

The combination of the bleak winds brushing up against your body and the swirling snow made you walk sideways as you tried to steady your walk. Snow and ice were sticking to your hair and eyelashes and the pants of your jumpsuit were soaking wet, giving your legs a burning feeling from the temperatures. You could already feel the rawness under your nose as chapped skin began to form across your lips and nostrils. Surprisingly enough though, you could see where you were going when you did open your eyes. Off in the distance, a massive black building entrance carved into the side of a mountain. Everything seemed to be large scale on this planet and it made you feel like a squashed bug.

You broke out into a run, grasping the strap of your rucksack tightly as it bounced slightly on your back. You let out a gasp of pain as you felt the effects of running with a wounded leg, not the smartest move but there wasn't a way around it. Your semi-healed gash on your leg still produced a great amount of discomfort and naturally it made you want to limp. The burning in your legs seemed to increase and a numbing sensation was slowly replacing it, spreading up from your aching calves. The only part of you that was wasn't frozen was your mind and it was keeping you alive right now by making your body run even though you could hardly feel it. You changed your course of direction and headed towards the side of the entrance to the building, keeping up your rapid pace. Protruding dark beams that were a harsh contrast against the bright snow were on either side of the huge door. They would give you coverage till you decided what your next course of action would be. So far, you were throwing the designated plan out the window and winging everything. You could only hope that winging it though, would suffice.

“ **Shit** , its cold!” You cursed to yourself, teeth chattering while stating the obvious. In all honesty, that was the only thing that was being said in your mind. It had become a chant—a mantra almost. You couldn't even remember what warmth felt like at the moment and trying to sent a shiver down your entire body. Your body rattled the entire time that you were trekking through this vast tundra.

You stopped when you reached a high point in the biome to catch your breath and take in your surroundings. Wildly loose hair that had come apart from your braid whipped around your face as you stood firmly, gazing in the distance through icy lashes.

Just a little bit further. And then what?

Waiting.

Everything was a waiting game when it came to stealth. Wait for sounds, wait for movement, wait for the right moment, whatever it may be. In this case, maybe wait for death.

A thunderous booming sound in the distance suddenly snapped you out of your thoughts and out of natural instinct you flinched and ducked slightly. Your mouth gaped open as you stood there, frozen. Both in movement and in temperature, you were frozen. The only thing you could hear now was your pulse, still steady despite the shock of the sound. Still, you waited for another sound to follow it, counting the seconds that went by in your head. One one thousand. Two one thousand. Three one thousand. Four… that was odd. Why was there only one boom? You broke out into a sprint once again, a sense of urgency surging through you. The fact that there was only one sound did put you on edge, though it could be nothing, you didn't want to take any chances.

Reaching the enormous beams finally, you skid to a stop in the snow and practically latched yourself onto the wall. Your chest was heaving with exhaustion and small puffs of warm breath could be seen rapidly coming from your mouth gasping for air. You snatched your blaster pistol out of its holster and brought it up to you. Closing your eyes, you let yourself remain calm. This was it. You rested the side of your head against the shiny black cold wall, letting your ear press up against it as well to see if you could ear any movement. Nothing. Only a low muted hum emitted from the inside. Then, suddenly the doors opened with a clean swoosh and you backed yourself into the corner behind you, finger on the trigger ready to defend.

“Wait!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OOOOOOOOOH. CLIFF HANGER. Who is that talking? Side note: every time I think of the word cliff hanger, I think of that segment on between the lions. Look it up. Anyways, soooooo reader made it! Sort of. Still got a long ways to go but will it all work out? Hm. Kylo's coming soon guys. He's a punk bitch, honestly.


	5. The Hunter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It would seem that things are going smoothly as you sneak your way into the oscillator of Starkiller Base. But all good things must come to an end. You find yourself fighting for your life as an avalanche of threats induces the fighter inside of you. Your fate is met as you come face to face with both commanders of the First Order and different fate is sealed as you meet a much warmer face in a time of unwanted healing.

“Wait!” Came a voice. Robotic. Muffled. Your breath hitched and you stayed unmoving, unfeeling. Praying that you haven’t been seen and soon to be met with a deadly fate.

“Has your weapon been checked?” It asked. A trooper, you guessed.

“Yeah. Had it done this morning.” Another voiced replied. It was different, lighter. Still, it came from the being that threatened your mission. And where there was one, there were many others.

You heard their footsteps crunching in the snow from afar and you remained still as a rock, shielded from their view from behind a column. You counted the seconds that went by in your head. Waited for the footsteps to become faint. One one thousand, two one thousand, three...

Then, you move in for the attack, acting quickly as this entire mission was a race against time. Running towards the two troopers, they become aware of your presence as the crunching of the snow beneath your boots gives you away. One whirls around, blaster aimed. The other has a blaster bashing in his head before he can utter the word “Hello”. Not that he'd be saying that anyways.

The trooper with a blaster aimed at your skull moves to shoot at you, you let an autopilot like setting in your movements take over. You whip around to face him and in one fluid motion, exult enough power to knock him down by ducking and swiping his feet from under him. The snow being your advantage as he slips to a hard fall. He groans and tries to hoist himself up, succeeding in his prominent task. You grab his arm and yank him to you, twisting his arm to his back in the process. He yells out, clearly in a great amount of discomfort and soon pain should he even flinch. Lifting your leg to his back, you push him down with your foot and grab ahold of his helmet with one hand as he falls down. The momentum from grasping onto the bulky helmet as he falls sends you stumbling back a bit as its ripped from his face. A blow to the back of his black-haired head with the back of your blaster sends him into a deep slumber-one that should he awaken from, he would have a massive knot and migraine imbedded in him for days. You kick his blaster away from arms reach and place a foot on his neck, his vertebrae felt even through the thick sole of your boot. Feeling for any movement and if he is still conscious, you conclude that he isn't— _good_. 

Your chest is heaving as you look upon the two unconscious bodies on the ground before you, breath coming out in quick puffs of air from the bitter cold. The first trooper you dealt went down from a simple hit. _Weak_.

No time for pondering. Leaning down, you grab the others blaster. This could come in handy. In fact, it may just save your ass. Your blaster pistol was trusty, that was unmistakable. But this—oh man. It felt **nice**.

Taking steps backward away from the scene, you then turn around and sprint to the tall ladder against the wall of the building. You hoist yourself up onto the first step and start to climb, legs burning from both numbness and soreness. The unavoidable coldness has made it nearly impossible to move your fingers, let alone get a firm grasp on the steps of the ladder without the stinging feeling making you want to rip your hands away. And in doing that, you would most likely crush your skull from falling in the snow beneath you. Keeping a fast pace, you reach the top fairly quickly and stand up ready to act. Everything you need is right in front of you, taunting you with its proximity. Running to the door ahead of you, you press on the button next to it and, with a hiss, it opens smoothy. 

To your surprise, there is no not-so-welcome greeting awaiting you behind the door. Instead, you’re greeted with a railing ahead of you and sprint to it. It overlooks a vast open room and light from behind you cascades down into the depths. Steam can be seen floating in light peaking out and then dissipating into the shadows only to repeat this pattern over and over. Down below, walkways stand above a seemingly never ending pit of steam and darkness. You do **not** want to end up down there.

You look to your left and then to your right, checking for anyone though you’ve already concluded there is no one to be found. It’s almost frightening. At least it offered you less slaving over drawing up a, very on the spot, plan to take down brainless troopers.  _Think, think, think_. You’ve got to get down to that lower level, but **how**?

Turning your head to look at what’s back of you, you see the start of some flights of stairs and you sprint towards it, blaster set firmly in your hands already being molded into your memory. You glide down the many flights of stairs, hoping they take you to where you want to go. What you’re looking for is an exit into the main hallways, that would be ideal. If all goes well, this should be easy. The echo of the _clank clank clank_ coming from your boots beating on the metal below your feet is the only sound—except for the quiet, constant mechanical hum.

You reach the end of the stairs to see a hallway entrance from behind a corner and duck down, running to a wall that will conceal you for the time being. It’s like a radio station of ominous nothingness had turned on all of a sudden and you were intently tuning in to it. You wait again, for noises, for movement, anything. 

 **Nothing**. 

Peering to look at the entrance of the hallway, you find that its dimly illuminated. Staying ducked down, you move forward, stolen blaster ready to fire. Finger twitching as it ghosts over the trigger. 

Rounding the corner, you thrust your weapon forward. Not a single trooper standing guard. You narrowed your eyes into slits at the sheer extremities in solitude, it gnawed at you down to the bone. 

“Huh, and this was thought to be a suicide mission.” You whispered, eyes scanning every corner. 

The hallways engulf you as you run through them. Scanning your surroundings, you can see that there are no rooms—just a never ending hallway. The glossy black marble floors reflect the lights and buttons on the walls and from where you are, you can spot rock formations protruding out at the end of the hall, showcasing that this base was drilled into the mountains. 

At last, you see doorways and you run to the first one you see. Hitting the button on the side, the door slides open with a _whoosh_ and you quickly move inside to close the door behind you by pressing yet another button. You return to the task at hand, working quickly. The stolen blaster drops to the floor with a plastic clank and you shrug off your rucksack, letting it drop to the floor as well. 

Taking a squatting position, you dig through your bag looking for a chip that is used to download the information on and then transfer directly to the ship. You huff, frustrated. Where is that damn chip? You could have sworn you put it right in the side pocket.

Then, you feel it. Your line of sight feels... binary. 

The hair on the back of your neck raises. Your skin is prickled with goosebumps all over. Someone is near. You don’t know how you know but you do—you _feel_ them. It pulls you in a new direction; one that exists only in your mind. They are trying to get in and you are not about to deal with that. The chip search can pause.

Picking up your bag, you throw it into a corner and grab the blaster off the floor in one swift motion. You ready yourself by getting into the position to shoot. Sure enough, the door opens and you’re shooting before you can even think or breath. And you chose the right decision by doing this, two stormtroopers were on the other side, not expecting you. One goes down, the other reacts to your blasts and thrusts his own blaster to you. Panic coming from him moves into the room, renting it for the time being. It is worst roommate you could possibly encounter. 

Running to a different angle, you continue to shoot ferociously. He isn’t shooting at you. This act made questions float through your mind-questions of morals. Was this considering fair play? Were you defying everything the Resistance stands for by shooting at a man who isn’t defending himself? He runs towards you. You deflect him by whipping around him and then sending a hard kick to the back of his knees. He goes down, submissive.

“ **DROP YOUR WEAPON!** ” You scream out. You keep your blaster pointing to his head, deadly in its aim—not showcasing its full potential _just_ yet. Breathing ragged breaths and looking at him with wild eyes—you were deadly.

He does so and puts his hands on either side of his head.

“Do not alert anyone or I **will** kill you.” You stalk towards him as you say this, making sure your hot breath is grazing his neck. 

He nods once, genuinely fearing for his life. Though, not much is at stake. 

You pull away. 

“Tell me your name.” You commanded.

“FN-2187.”

“Hm, that’s not much of a name.” Returning to your bag in the corner to pick it up, you keep your blaster firmly aimed at his head. “Well, _FN-2187_ , I am taking you as hostage. You do what I say, you’ll make it out alive. I **don’t** trust that you won’t tell anyone so I will be leaving immediately after I get what I need in the name of the Resistance.”

He simply nods, shaken. At least he hasn't fainted.

“Get up on your knees and face that wall.” You turn your head to watch him do as you say, still ready to shoot. Your eyes are blazing.

“I’ll have you know, I don’t want to shoot you. But you are a threat and you are a potential wall blocking me from what I need. So it’d be wise to do as I say and be the door that opens for me.” Your voice darkens a bit, startling you even. Walking over to the control panel, blaster still aimed, you search with one hand for the chip you seek. Feeling it, you retrieve it and then proceed to place it inside it’s holder on the panel to download information.

“Can I get a full scale map of the base on here?”

He speaks up finally. “Yes.”

“Alright, what do I press?”

“After you put in the chip, a pop up should come up in a hologram stating words.” He was right, the words ‘PROCEED TO DOWNLOAD’ came up. “After that, it will ask you for a password. I know it, I can—"

“Can I trust that you aren’t tricking me into setting off alarms that will alert everyone an intruder, me, is on base?” You interrupt him. This was something you needed to know. You weren’t stupid.

“Yes.” He states firmly. You trust this.

“Continue.”

“The password is ‘4268’. From there, you will choose the map you wish to download and it will begin.”

You do as he says and sure enough the map is downloading onto the chip. Ready to be put into the respectful hands of the Resistance.

“Now, how do I send this to my ship? It’s sensors are on and ready to pick up data.”

“You have a—"

“ **HEY.** ”

No can do, man.

“S-Sorry. You log the password ‘0068805’ into the system and it will pull up a list of connections. Choose your ship and it will transfer the map to whoever is on the receiving end of it.” He hesitates. “Can I ask who it is?”

You consider this.

“A droid. BB unit.” Everything is finished. You yank out the chip and shove it into your pocket and zip it; it became the most important object to the Resistance in a matter of minutes. Walking over to the trooper, you then pull him up by his arm. He stands to be a bit taller than you. Rather short though for a stormtrooper, you note. 

You actually lower your blaster, wanting to chat.

“You made a good choice today, FN-2187. Maybe your first one. Maybe your last one, I don’t know.”

He nods once.

“You are to tell **no one** that this happened.” Then, you proceed to knock him out with the back of your stolen blaster. This was becoming a regular occurrence. But, you can’t take any chances. Not here.

Still, what an asshole move on your part. 

Grabbing the rucksack, you move to head out and open the door. But rounding the corner as soon as the door opens, and just as you are prepared to look, are four troopers and they spot you _immediately._  They're alerting others of your presence over their intercoms and the radio station of ominous nothingness switches to a different channel—the obviously perilous channel. You book it down the hallway you came in and round the corner into to oscillator chamber, only to meet other troopers ready to fire. You audibly gasp, your once indubitable luck has running out. 

Blaster fire breaks out and you covering your head with your hands, as if that will do anything, and head for cover behind a column to shield yourself. You start shooting as well from behind the column. The blaster sending a kickback into your shoulder. Bless the heavens though, it’s a good thing you’re a great shot because you’d be in a heap of trouble if you couldn’t aim. You take out 3 already. Again, _weak_.

* * *

Hux is truly testing Kylo today. Three days. It’s been _three days_ since he asked for a report on the location of the Resistance. And the general has the audacity to throw away that order. So here they stand, bickering over the littlest of things that could be so easily fixed if the general simply listened to Ren.

“General, you have become so finicky about your weapon plans. You don’t even give a sufficient amount of attention to other matters!” Kylo yells at the weary general. Still, he holds his ground. Taking in a breath to reply to Kylo, a trooper then runs into the bustling control room, interrupting the general with his presence.

Kylo turns toward the trooper storming in, feeling the urgency radiating off of him. _Feeding_ off of it.

Kylo speaks first, his booming mechanical voice exulting power. “Something is wrong?”

“Yes sir. Intruder on base.”

He frowns, though the trooper cannot see. Such a useless thing to be in a panic about.

“Then do away with them? You alone are perfectly capable of dealing with the intruder, are you not?” His agitation is growing by the second. The **audacity** of it all.

“Sir, she’s… she’s escaping. She’s powered through troopers sent already.” Kylo is surprised to hear the intruders gender. Though he has never doubted a woman, he still never falters in expressing his amusement.

“Then send a squadron her way. She’ll tire eventually.” General Hux speaks up, taking the directive as these are his troops. _His_ creation.

“We already have, sir. They… They sent out a message that they are retreating to get out heavy duty machinery.” The trooper is growing nervous under both the eyes of Kylo Ren and General Hux. Who knows what either of these men are capable of? He didn’t want to find out.

Kylo’s eyes widen behind his mask, appalled at the stupidity of Hux’s troops. They fail to impress him constantly and to him it is nothing but a waste of utilities.

He growls, growing impatient. “Forget it. I’ll deal with her **myself**. Pull the division out.” He storms out of the control room, a gloved hand on his lightsaber hilt. Eyes burning a hole through his mask at the ferocity in his gaze-a gaze no one can see or feel.

* * *

An opening is spotted from your peripheral vision and you can see there are a different set of stairs from the ones you went down earlier. Making a break for it, you run backwards to the stairs, still shooting as you go. You take out even more stormtroopers, some falling over the railing with a stream of blood-curdling screams following after from the ferocity of your blasts. 

Then, you’re bolting up the stairs, the only thought running through your mind is getting out of this hell hole. A dead end is reached and your only option, a risky one, is to climb. It doesn't take long for you to make a decision as the blaster shots all around were already give you quite the shove. You’re climbing up bars and railings before you can think—muscles burning and stretching to power through this torturous act. 

A blaster shot then grazes your leg, ripping through your flesh. A burning scream emits from your throat and it causes your leg to go limp—forcing you to pause your climbing. You're hanging by the railing slighting but you pull yourself up by your arms, muscles quivering and arteries protruding out as you do so. You continue to climb faster, this injury was only fueling your determination. But seriously, just your _damn luck_. 

Finally, you reach the top of the railing and using all of your upper body strength, you hoist yourself over. With an echoing thud, you fall to the round on the other side of it. You groan out, rolling to your side and gripping your leg in pain. Blindly reaching for the wound with shaky hands, you let out another breathy groan as you put a bit too much pressure on it. The pain was searing—still ripping through your flesh! Taking a moment to breathe, you channel some focus to yourself. Feeling it guide you to the end of your mission—to getting to your ship. 

Swiftly, you lift yourself up on to your feet, your leg throbbing with pain as weight is pressed on it. You push yourself to run like hell and to run like normal, if that was possible. The door is still open and you curse to yourself. You should have known better, **dammit**. This probably gave you away. 

You’re running into the snowy weather and you can see that ice has collected on the metal bars of the ladder. On top of that, its hard to see. What the actual _fuck_ are you going to do with a leg possibly bleeding out and troopers on your tail?

Death takes a seat next to you. You make a _lovely_ couple.

Groaning, you push aside the danger that this now deadly ladder is giving off, and begin to climb down it, blaster now strapped around you. You let out a pained hiss as your hands grip around the ice-encrusted bars and your leg sends piercing pain up to your hip. Keeping your feet steady, but moving quickly enough. You can feel your boot slide side to side with each step down from the slippery ice before it cracks under your weight. Soon, you’re touching the ground and the sound of crunching snow reaches your ears. You pull yourself away from the ladder, palms red and burning and ready to form sores.

The blizzard like storm occurring makes it hard to make out anything in front of you as you bolt through the snow, running as fast at your legs can carry you. One leg working harder than the other. Still, even through the foggy mess of the falling snow you can make out squadrons coming from afar straight to you. You yank the stolen blaster off of you and begin shooting. It’s rather useless considering how far away they are, so you direct your undivided attention to the incoming troopers behind you. Charging towards them, you take one out with your blaster and kick another in the chest with a heavy boot. A dumb move on your part, unbelievable pain is now coursing through your leg and aspiring to abide there. Blood droplets trickle down till they reach the snow, creating a beautiful painting of contrast. And it’s your blood. 

You stand you ground. This only pushes you over the edge. While the other trooper is on the ground, you can just sense more are coming from behind you. Without looking, you shoot the trooper that is practically begging you to silence him and continue to walk towards the others.

You simply duck as one tries to hit you and then whip around, feral in your movements. It’s almost animalistic how you kick him in the crotch, as if it was an instinct. He emits a groan and falls to his knees, yelling at you about how much of a bitch you are. You’ve heard that one before. Shutting him up, you shoot at him - angrily. His body jolts backwards from the close proximity of the shot and then limbs flop until they are lying limp of the ground. Asshole. 

Yet another is coming towards you and you catch his wrist, twisting it to where he writhers in pain. You kick him square in the chest and you can hear the wind being knocked out of him, he heaves and pats his chest trying to breathe. Thrusting your blaster, you slap him across the head with it, leaving him unconscious much like his comrades. You smirk slightly.

 **Ha**. No balls of steel here.

It would appear that no more are on their way and you stand over unconscious bodies breathing hard, ragged breaths. Your hot breath forming little puffs of air in the wake of the subarctic temperatures. Everything seems to pause, so you take a moment to look over your leg. You wince once again, the entirety of your body sore from pure exhaustion. It’s a simple graze, something you can easily tend to, though you’d need to do it soon. You can make it through this. You’ve made it this far, after all. 

Taking notice that the squadrons have retreated, you begin to run. Which is odd. A little too odd for your taste. Still, you keep running though you can’t even tell where it is that you’re going. The snow coming down is thick and creates a hazy fog, limiting your depth perception quite a bit. 

A small stream of red light is dancing in the distance, and its growing larger, more accentuated and bright as it comes toward you. Your eyes narrow as you try to focus on it to make out what it could be and if it projects any danger. With it, a dark figure arises from the soft blizzard haze. You recognize it’s weapon and know exactly what it is. It’s a lightsaber, and this one was deadly in its nature. You had only heard of these exquisite weapons. It was a cross guard design, with two small blades protruding out from the side of the long beam like fire blasting out of a rocket. Not to be tampered with. A crackling sound could be heard the closer the figure came and it penetrated you, striking you with fear. You stop dead in your tracks and aim. Not sure if you should start shooting or physically attack. Or both.

Then, the figure starts swinging the lightsaber ferociously, animalistic. You’re firing and they are blocking with violent swings—it’s become a dance. Not an elegant dance where people gather round to watch, but a dance between life an death where reapers gather round to watch. Ready to take home a prize. 

They move closer and closer, till you’re forced to duck and roll to get another angle on them quickly. You continue to shoot as you stand up, they continue to block as they come closer with long strides. You can now see and _feel_ their full height. And it is daunting, even to you. They loom over you greatly, masked with a reflective mask that if you stared at long enough, you could see the many faces of terror it’s met. This masked figure is closer to you now than ever before and you can smell leather and iron mixing together in the air. 

They pause on deflecting your blasts and raise a rigid arm and as they do so your entire body freezes. You try to lurch forward to let, wanting to rip their throat out but absolutely nothing happens. It was like you could _feel_ your body wanting to obey your commands, but it had been taken away the power to do so. Your body was freezing from the bitter cold, but now it is actually frozen. Unmoving. _Unfeeling_. 

The dark creature stalks toward you. How **dare** they. This was the _worst_ feeling in the world to you, you felt incredibly vulnerable. Visible. And yet you couldn’t even see this persons, if it was a person, face. Can’t find eyes to lock with, to look for sympathy in. There was _nothing_ you could do.

“I’m disappointed. I thought out little _game_ would have lasted longer.” A muffled yet strong and booming mechanical voice emits from the mask. It held a softness behind it though—the slightest touch of human.

What kind of _fucker_ would want this to go on though?

“Yeah, you’d like that _wouldn’t_ you?” You spat. He stays silent after that but you can tell— _feel—_ that he’s trying to do something other than take away your ability and right to move. You take the time to focus on your body, imagining the tips of your fingers twitching.

He’s gazing at you, searching. You are silent to him. Not in sounds, no, you were groaning with struggle. It was in the mind. The silence was deafening. There wasn’t even a wall in your mind, it’s just empty. No echoes of his probing. **Nothing**. 

 _Impossible_ , he thinks.

Then, with a wave of energy, you overcome the freeze. You attack with your blaster immediately after breaking from the grip of his powers, pulling the trigger and shooting straight at his head. He whirls with his lightsaber in hand, taken aback by the unforeseen attack. It waves about with his jerky movement and slices into your side, burning and cutting your flesh. You scream out in pain and clutch at your side, falling to your knees and curling inside of yourself. You’re still screaming and it feels like you will _never_ stop. Gods and stars, this was unbearable! You pull your hand away to stare at it. Theres blood on your fingers, staining them with angry red.

You were angry as well, that _fucking idiot_.

Or were _you_ the idiot?

Glancing down to your side, you can see the gash and wave of nausea comes over you. You have to shut your mouth with a snap so you don’t puke right there at the sight of adipose tissue. Groaning through clenched teeth, you press a hand to your wound and see that your blood is mixing with the snow yet again. Paintings consisting of blood as the paint and the suffering as its muse were left on the planet by you. 

You hear him curse under his breath at himself and hear the pounding of crunching footsteps in the snow. But it sounds _so_ far away—yet his big black boots were right in front of you. 

Your mind wavers, you’re losing a lot of blood. You can tell by the way you’re feeling lightheaded from just the shift of a glance. Before you black out, you hear the sound of the dark figure shouting commands to hold their fire and feel large hands clutch your body. Black spots cover your vision and a wave of darkness crashes over you.

* * *

You wake up, but don’t open your eyes. You know that you are awake, you feel it. There’s a different smell, something that isn’t blood; something hygienic?

A wave of fear crashes over you. You’re scared to open your eyes, scared of what your eyes will reveal and transfer to your mind—forever kept there in the archives of your memories. Still, you need to know your surroundings. It seems bright and you can see the faintest of red behind your eyelids. 

Where you are, there is light.

Eyes fluttering open slowly, you peer through your lashes at your surroundings. You’re laying down in a, what looks to be, hospital bed and it’s _very_ bright actually. Like the snow outside, everything is white and cold. The coolness of the air pricks your skin, leaving goosebumps in its wake from both fear and physical awakening. You look up, theres an iv stand with a bag of fluids handing from it and you look down at your arm to see there is an iv in your veins, filling you with fluids. What kind of fluids, you didn't know. You could only hope, though, that it wasn't a truth serum of some sort. 

Looking to your right, there is a woman in a white coat with a grey hijab over her head. She was reading a chart in a corner, head tilted, standing by a glass wall. You shot upright, but gasp in pain. Oh, _right_. The saber. 

This startles the doctor and she jumps, whipping around—an inquisitive look is plastered on her face. She finds that you’re awake and attempting to get up, a big no no in her book. 

“ **Woah** there girl! You took a good beating, you don’t need to be going anywhere!” She runs to you and pushes you back down gently with her hand on your chest.

“I need to.” You say weakly, finding your rather raspy voice.

“You don’t need to do anything. Whatever it is, I’m sure it can wait.” She pulls a spinning low stool up to your bed and sits down, grabbing your charts that were tucked in place under her armpit.

“Do you remember what happened?” You nod, not wanting to speak. Just wanting to leave.

“Can you explain to me the last thing you remember?”

You roll your eyes and sight exasperatedly but oblige. You recall your last memories with anger, “I remember fighting a dark tall figure-a man. He had a red lightsaber. He cut me down, I passed out.”

“Alright and do you recall the events that brought you here at all?”

“You told me to tell you the last thing I remembered. That was it. So, _**no**_. I don’t recall the events that brought me here.” You let your simmering anger get the better of you and snapped at her. She didn’t deserve it, you knew that. But you were just so _goddamn_ angry at the situation and the fact that you were being asked questions when **you** should be the one asking why you’re here. In fact, you were about to get an answer out of her right now.

“Where _am_ I? And how long have I been out?” Your voice raised a bit as you asked her this, but she stayed calm and reserved despite the tone you used with her. A true professional, she’s probably dealt with worse.

“You’re still on Starkiller Base, just in the medical wing and you’ve been out for about a day.”

“Okay. _Thank you_ , Dr…” You searched for a name tag. there wasn’t one.

“Oh! Lyra. Call me Lyra.” She smiled brightly, her blue eyes squinting a bit behind her dark framed glasses. You didn’t return the favor - you weren’t in the mood for this.

She stood up off of her stool and moved to put your charts in a holder for them on the wall. “It’s time for a new dosage for you. I’ll be back in a jiffy.”

She crossed the room but stopped before opening the clear door and whipping around to face you, “And _don’t_ try to get up again!” She exclaimed with a scolding pointed finger and then left the room.

You’ve gotten that finger before. Only it came from a different person who was currently miles away. You sighed and closed your eyes. What were you going to do? You didn’t know what the situation with Beeree was and you couldn’t even ask, they didn’t need to know that you had a droid with their information on it. If they didn’t know already, that is. God, you hated this whole not knowing anything deal. Planning around events you didn’t know about was a hard task. Granted, you knew they thought of you as a prisoner but that didn’t help any with planning an escape. You needed Beeree. You needed _Leia_. Hell, you needed everyone. 

 **No.** As far you know, you’re in this alone. Only time will tell now.

“Hiya! I’m back” Lyra came in the room again, pushing a small steel table cart with a syringe, iv supplies, and gloves atop of it.

 _Hiya…_ **yep** , she’s an odd ball. Not that there was anything _wrong_ with that.

“So, I’ll just be giving you a dose of Hydromorphone. No biggie. I do need you to sit up a bit, though.” She explained while striding over to you. She picked up the gloves off her cart and slipped them on with a snap once she was finished. She did a little happy shrug as she did it. Must be a doctor thing.

You slowly curled your back upwards and hoisted yourself up roughly, causing a sharp pain in your side once again. You looked down at your body. Your black flight suit had been cut to mostly likely to get to the wound. White gauze covered your wound, though it was speckled with ugly shades of brown and red. At least you were no longer looking at adipose tissue. 

Lyra wiped your bloodied arm down with a wet substance, most likely for sterilizing. She then picked up the syringe to stare at the needle, her eyes crossing a bit as she did so. She flicked it with her finger and watched it steadily. You watched her every move, not exactly sure why you were currently on edge but after what had happened today, you think that justified your reasons. Granted, she gave you no reason to feel anything but relief as that was what she was offering you. But it was only physical relief, a syringe penetrating your veins and filling them with the fluid that would work with your brain, not the mental stability you yearned for at the moment. A success was all you asked for with this mission and it was apparent to you now that even that was too much to ask for.

She tapped at your lower arm and your veins, trying to get one to protrude out. Then, she stuck the needle of the syringe into your forearm and you watch it disappear under your skin, leaving a thin raised line under it.

“Got any pets?” she chirped.

 _Hm_. Let me see… does a **hostage** count?

“Uh. I had a… droid?”

“Really? That’s really interesting, thought it’s not exactly a pet.” She giggled, “I have a cat. His name is Elmer. He’s pretty frisky. You know, the only human food he’ll eat are donuts and milk. Also, a few days ago I was about to leave base to tend to some research projects—which by the way is conducted on old people—when I found Elmer screeching on my coffee table at a bonsai tree. I collect them, or used to. Now I just have one. I really love trees. They’re so… I don’t know, alive?” Lyra rambled and you side-eyed her, confused as to why she is explaining to you these rather pointless details about her normal life. _Normal_. That was something you’d never achieve in your lifetime, that’s for sure.

Your mind drifted elsewhere as Lyra continued to ramble about whatever it was she was going on about. Thoughts and images of escaping the base entered your mind and you jotted down mental notes, scribbling and underlining as you went. You couldn’t stay here. Not now. Not _ever_. Shackles and confinement loomed over you each passing minute you stayed here. Your current state of health could be pushed aside for the time being, it was now or never to take action. A waiting game was already set in motion. The mental tick tock of a clock rang throughout your head, echoing off the walls of your mind as you sat there in a room with a woman who had the audacity to tell her whole life’s story.

“And that’s how I learned that I should be a nymph.” She had already finished up with you when she was done talking. If you were being completely honest, you didn’t get a single thing out of her. She stared at you beaming, waiting for a reply.

“Same.” You said dumbly. What were you even _agreeing_ with?

“Wait, you mean to tell me you **also** yearn to live among the trees in hopes that your destiny lies within the hands of a local sentient?” She exclaimed, eager to hear your answer.

You blinked. A single eyebrow raised at her and you stiffly shook your head no.

“Ah. I suppose I’m the only one, then.” She smiled sheepishly, waving as she headed out once more.

You groaned, wanting to yank these ivs out of your arm and leave this retched place. Though the room you were currently in was far from it, you knew there were worse conditions you could easily be thrown into. With your own two eyes, you had seen what they could do, the hostility they could bring forth. But there was that one trooper. FN-2187. He seemed to have broken through the conformity of these conditioned troops. It was a shame you had to betray him in a way, though, you never said you _wouldn’t_ knock him out. It was for the best, regardless. Although, looking at where it got you maybe it wasn’t if you couldn’t make things turn around for you.

Letting out a deep sigh, you let your eyes rest, sinking into the mattress beneath you—neither comfortable nor uncomfortable. 

Tonight. Tonight you would escape. If you could just get Beeree.

Faint arguing coming from outside of the glass door interrupted you from your attempt at resting. You decided to listen in on it, having nothing better to do. They were talking about you, you could tell from the mention of an intruder. That’s you, the retched intruder. The words sounded defensive, though. Protective. The voice being something you recognized as…

“I see you’ve received the proper care from our physicians. You look… _well_.” A voice with a thick accent spoke, making you jump in response. That was not the voice you heard. 

Your eyes shot open in annoyance and you found yourself looking at a redheaded man in black attire. Marked with rank, most likely. Everything appeared to be military driven around here, nothing like the diverse freedom of the Resistance.

“So I have. And who might _you_ be?” You glared at him, already offended by his presence and judgement, or a lack there of. His eyebrow twitched.

“General Hux. Highest ranking commander of the First Order. Might I ask who _you_ are?”

You scoffed at that. How lucky were you? The **general** was gracing _you_ , a lowly spy, with his presence. You could cry _._ Someone better get a tissue.

“An everpresent _threat_ to **you** and your order.” You spatted out, looking him dead in the eyes.

Can he  **leave** with his ginger ass self?

He smirked and sniffed disdainfully. Placing his hands behind his back, he waltzed on over to you. He looked pleased with himself yet disgusted at everything, it was counteractive on his part.

“I’ll have you know, **I** am the one that would yank you from this bed and put you in shackles. It would seem that you’re already limited to your full potential, which I am sure isn’t so grand, even now. You’re _weak_.” As he spoke, he lowered his face closer to yours.

“And how many of your troopers did I take down? I counted at least 30. Have you already forgotten I did this _alone?_  You think I’m weak because I am bound and vulnerable but I see you. And I see _nothing_ but a title. You’re a **filler**.” Your voiced raised. You were seething and had a rage that laid simmering for too long, bursting from the seams. How dare he? He was nothing, what purpose could he possibly have?

He drew back from you, amused. The smirk returned on his face, a humorous glint in his eyes. What game was he playing at? And _who_ was dealing the cards?

“I like a challenge.”

“Then you’ll ** _love_** me.”

And with that, he turned on his heel and quickly left. Thoughts of you being a strong ally swirling in his brain. With that kind of upfront attitude, you could be unbreakable. But with that, you would be unwavering. Not able to be conditioned. _Not_ what he needed.

You hate everyone here. Except Lyra. She's... _commendable._  An innocent.

“Fucking _unbelievable_. What next?” You groaned aloud.

And just as you said it, another person strode in your room. It was a stormtrooper, sent directly from Kylo Ren to question you on specific information. He was running on 3 hours of sleep and a wake up call that included a certain red lightsaber—the usual pill to swallow for a trooper in his division.

“Miss, do you own a droid?”

“Depends on who’s asking.” That out to throw him off a bit. Though you would like to have Beeree back, revealing this information could lead them to believe you have something against them. Which you did, but you didn’t need them to know that.

“Um. Kylo Ren, Miss.” You blinked at this.

Who the _fuck_ …

“Kyle **_who?_** _”_ You raised an eyebrow. You didn’t know of a Kyle. Why was Kyle with your droid?

“No. _Kylo_ Ren. He’s the commander of the First Order?”

“Doesn’t ring a bell. Is that the only question you have for me?”

“Yes. But I need an answer. Now.” He stepped toward you, trying to tower over your from afar. It didn’t do much. He was bad at the whole intimidating trooper thing, that was for sure.

You’d give him props for that walk, though. Strong. Confident. It was an attempt, nevertheless.

“Okay. I get it, I get urgency. But, I’m not feeling threatened. So I’m gonna say… give it a rain check? Come back to me when you’ve got a reason why I should either confirm or deny this droid being in my possession.” You waved him off and he hesitated for a moment before walking away, dumbfounded. Ren is not going to like this.

Now that that’s out of the way, maybe you could sleep off the ache in your joints and the throbbing pain thriving in your side and leg. It was something you could allow yourself till things could move forward. And right now, that mental clock was stuck on a number.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lol. Told y'all this would get crazy. Please give feedback, I would seriously love it. Also, it's Kylo time!!! Things happen in the next chapter that really will form their relationship as... acquaintances? That saves one another? And kind of hate each other? Sooooooo, is Kylo a scumbag? Or did just he save her life? Hm. I leave that to you.


	6. Cosmic Interferences

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kylo Ren is, for the first time in a very long time, completely dumbfounded. Your encounter with each other has left him puzzled and captivated—his determined nature coming out full throttle as he tries to figure out what to do with you. General Hux, though, thinks you would look tremendous with a First Order insignia plastered on your coat. But you have other plans—plans that involve getting the hell away from both of the commanders of the First Order and their dictating plans.

There was no explanation for what had transpired outside between him and the intruder–the _girl_. An energy was present, that much he knew, but it wasn't that that left the knight alone, mask off, to his manic thoughts yet again in the privacy of his chambers. It was the block— **no** , it wasn't a block. A block he would have noticed, _sensed_ even, but what he had come across in an attempt to probe your mind like any other being was unexpected. There was no forewarning. The task was impossible to do, and in that, it seemed impossible to him that it was impossible. He had never experienced such a force and with it brought him physical pain. The probe lead no where, you were an empty room. It simply bounced back into his mind which would cause a headache that still remained itching at the inside of his skull, even after three days had passed.

Ever since you had infiltrated the base, his mind had shifted. He had tried to push it aside, to push _you_ aside, and move to safer grounds because mulling over the concept of another force-sensitive—a unique one at that—was damn near treacherous. But he was always one to teeter over the edge trying to sneak a peek at the things that captivated him.

And captivated he _certainly_ was.

Though, you were currently in his grasp as a detainee—not an experiment meant for poking and prodding at. He has to be careful, about what he wasn’t sure, but he knew precautions needed to be taken. What to do with you, he hadn't figured out yet. Hux had explained to him that you had a bite that wasn't much bigger than the bark, something to be considered. He was implying that you could be an addition to the order if you got rid of that chip on your shoulder. A ludicrous idea. Even if you would be a powerful addition, you couldn't be conditioned. Hux knew it. Hell,  _he_ knew it.

Speaking of the devil, Kylo turned, snapping out of his thoughts about the girl and gave the door a heated glare as he could already read the thoughts coming from the posh general outside.

The beeps from him entering the code to his chambers could be heard and then a failing beep followed by an exasperated groan came from the general.

“Ren! _Dammit_ , open up.” He growled, accent thick, no doubt a look of pure animosity plastered on his face.

Kylo closed his eyes and looked up, annoyed and contemplating if he should oblige. He’d changed the lock for a reason. You’d think the general would have enough sense to not disturb him yet he was still planted outside his door. Now banging on it.

With a flick of Kylo’s wrist, the door slid open to reveal the general with a fist in the air, mid knock.

Hux straightened his black over-coat and moved to sit in the leather chair adjacent to the brooding man. “I’d thank you, but it would be a waste of breath.”

“Sure. Just come right in, **General**.”

“Cool it, **Ren**.”

“ _COOL_ it,” Kylo repeated, snorting, “Are you going through a midlife crisis?”

“I’m not that old, you know.” Hux scoffed, a bit hurt. He thought he looked quite good for his age.

Kylo rested his elbows on his knees and rubbed his face in an attempt to “cool it” as Hux had described it. This bickering between them was now deemed worthless as the generals thoughts filled his head, adding unnecessary weight.

“ **No**. I haven’t figured out what I will do with the _girl_.” His speech was muffled as his hands were still on his face.

Hux should have known he would bring up the subject before he would even think to, with his nonchalant probing he knew everything he was thinking. “Well, I’m asking you to reach a bit. I still think she would be a magnificent asset to the order. Maybe with Phas—”

“We agreed to let it go, Hux,” Kylo interrupted, his gaze downcast, “There will be no absolution. She should have consequences, though she has nothing against us worth exploiting and we don’t know where she comes from, she is still a threat.”

 _Typical_ , thought Hux. Always the same thing with Kylo Ren, take them and leave them. The general has sought after more potential ever since the great success in his troops, though Phasma would tell him otherwise, and this was an opportunity slipping through his clammy fingers. It was rather selfish of him to only want the girl to benefit him, but something told him she would be more than willing to accept if it meant no shackles to constrain her.

“Very well.” Hux dismissed.

“Any word on if the droid is hers?” He looked up and past Hux, to the corner of his room, where a black and white BB unit sat powered down and inactive. It had revealed itself shortly after his encounter with her, seemingly looking for its owner before shutting itself down as soon as it was caught. He knew it belonged to the girl, it was the only logical explanation. Still, he wanted her to fess up herself.

“No. She’s sly and… _stubborn_. I quite like her.” Hux mused, sighing.

Kylo raised an eyebrow at that and then proceeded to shake his head at the oblivious general. She was a threat, simple as that. There was no room for making friends with the enemy. Granted, the only reason she was a threat was because of her intrusion and nothing more— _yet_.

“Taken an interest, have we?” He stood up, grabbing his helmet off the floor and tugging it down onto his head. He hated the thing, with its heat from his breath and stuffy confinement, but he also hated the idea of nothing covering his face as he strode through the hallways. It offered intimidation without him having to do much to add to the effect, the design of it was meant to give those who spoke to him a docile feeling and the distorted voice was meant to send a shock to the system.

Hux only hummed a reply, he was currently bemused. Though, he snapped out of it when it came to his attention that Ren was about to leave.

“Going somewhere?”

“Yes? I’m off to get the confirmation of the droid out of her.” Kylo replied matter-of-factedly, voice now distorted and mechanical.

“Ugh, not your interrogations.” Hux rolled his head back in exasperation at the sheer thought of Kylo exulting his mystical power on the girl. It added a whole new level of creepiness to him, if that was even possible. In Ren’s case, it may not be. He’s reached capacity in Hux’s eyes.

“No, I…” He paused, not quite sure what to reveal, “I won’t.”

It was a dismissal and with that he left, dark robes flowing behind him, leaving the general alone and curious at the knights rather unusual choice of words.

“And don’t even **think** about _smoking_ in my quarters!” Hux heard coming from the hallway and he grimaced. He was just about to pull out his lighter.

* * *

“Got any ewoks?”

“No, go fish.”

You sighed. It would be the _third_ time today Lyra has won if she did this round. You had one book of cards, she had _five_. Earlier today, she had brought the simple card game in to make amends for the situation you were currently in. And would you look at that, you actually accepted the offer and now you two were atop the hospital bed playing like children—competitive children, at that.

Though, it didn't help much, or at all really, but it gave you something to do other than sitting and watching your iv drip _achingly_ slow. You could tell no one had a clue what to do with you, they hadn't figured out the truth and they weren't going to get it out of you either. So far, it was doctors orders that you heal properly but what the First Order was planning to do with you, even they didn't know. It was obvious they were scrambling to find a way to either do away with you or keep you here for no real reason.

Lyra cleared her throat, “Got any wampas?”

You growled, _of course_ you had some. Passing over two wampa cards, she squealed as she took them from you and inside you were secretly dying. You hated losing... And now you lost again.

She laid down another book of cards—the last one in the deck—and you put your face in a pillow. Failure has truly embittered you.

“Want to play…” She stopped talking at the sound of two marching footsteps coming from the outside of the room and you peered up, “Again?”

You couldn't tell if she was finishing her sentence or commenting on the fact that yet another trooper was sent to question you—or both.

“Doctor, out.” One of the troopers commanded. Lyra literally scurried away, she had no intentions of getting involved with these bullies. You, on the other hand, you had grown to enjoy messing with their minds a bit over the past few days.

“That’s right, you caught me,” You put your hands up submissively, “Go fish?”

Good one. You’d have to praise yourself later for that.

“The droid, intruder. Is it a BB unit?” That was a new one. They were testing you, seeing if you’d confirm something from a different approach. Still, you weren't budging.

“I _told_ you—I’ve told everyone. I don’t know of a droid.” You played with your nails, disinterested.

One of the troopers shifted, uncomfortable and probably not accustomed to doing order’s for Kylo Ren. No doubt he sent them, he always did. You stared at this noticeably fidgety trooper for a moment and gears turned in your head.

The trooper from the control room; _Your hostage_.

You could tell by how he was much shorter than the hostile trooper asking you questions, you had noted his height during the process of gathering the information you needed. Plus, for some reason you just knew it was him and you weren't going to question how. He _knew something_ —you had told him you had a droid and he knew what you had against them.

 _Oh god, do not tell him. I will kill you so help me god. Do not tell him,_ you screamed in your mind. Killing him was something you didn't fancy doing, but you would **find** a way to if this got out. Then, you were surely to be met with a fate worse than death.

Keeping a placid look on your face, you glanced at Lyra who was standing outside. She looked alert and genuinely worried, but truly there was nothing to worry about—yet.

“You two are dismissed, she’s obviously not telling the truth.” Came a voice, one you recognized. The voice from the dark figure. Mechanical and distorted, it no longer leapt fear into your throat, threatening to close it with panic.

The figure, who you now began to assume was Kylo Ren, strode in and as he did the troopers filed out. Lyra ran forward behind him as he walked in, concerned for your safety as visible danger dripped off of him like hot wax, ready to burn you if you touched it.

He simply held up a hand. “ _Leave_ us, Doctor. I’m not here to harm her.”

Lyra backed away, eyes locked on yours. You simply followed her with your eyes, waiting till she was gone before looking at the man in front of you. You sneered.

“Then what are you here to do? Slice me open again with that erratic thing you call a lightsaber?” Your voice raised— **no** , you were definitely not scare anymore. You were angry— _repulsed_.

“I–I didn't mean-” He started, but you interrupted him.

“I don’t care. I’m still in a hospital bed with _eleven_ stitches in my side. What do you want?”

All he could think about was the energy he felt in the room—one you weren't even aware of he sensed, but _he_ was. It felt pure— _cosmic_. But the silence was deafening to him, he needed to leave as soon as possible. His headache was spreading across his mind like wildfire and it felt like one as well with the combination of the uncontrollable probe bouncing back and your gaze—full of charisma and intensity behind it.

It _pulled_ at him and locked him out, all at the same time.

“ _Well?”_ You asked, growing irritated by the second. You didn't give a **shit** if he was commander or whatever. Right now he was just a fleck of dirt that wouldn't wash away no matter how hard you scrubbed—and your skin was growing _raw_ from the amount of scrubbing.

“Is the droid yours, yes or no? It will be _destroyed_ if you don't give us and answer,” He placed his hands at his side, balled up in fists, and walked over to where your jacket lay across a table, “And if you _really_ liked this droid of yours, I’m sure you wouldn't want anything _bad_ to happen to it.”

He was taunting you and it made your blood _boil_ –never to return to a simmer again. Even he assumed it was yours, but how could _he_ know? Sure, he blatantly displayed his power to read the minds of others—and freeze people in motion and who knows what else—the will of the force, you guessed. But Beeree was smart, they were most likely powered down somewhere and with that guess that meant they most likely didn't know of the information you had stolen. If they were really interested in learning if you had information, they would have long since dragged you into an interrogation room and literally drill it out of you. So as far as you knew, they didn't suspect anything of the sort.

“ _Alright_ , It belongs to me.” You stated simply—already bored of this cat and mouse game he was trying to start.

He turns his head, surprised. He did not expect that—in fact, he was ready to play with you a bit more since he knew it was yours. It was in his possession, after all.

“I must ask, what took you so long?” He sounded amused, even through the distorted filter over his voice. What did his voice _actually_ sound like? Surely it wasn't like that.

You shrugged. You really didn't know, but you _did_ know you had every reason to be cautious.

He nodded his head and you eyed his gloved hands fiddling with your leather jacket. The chip was _in there_ , and **stars** you could only hope he wasn't reading you mind! You held your breath, feeling your heartbeat quicken, and continued to follow his movements. His fingers ghosted over it and trailed down the jacket till they were no longer touching it. An odd gesture it was, it seemed _lingering_ —like he was touching something forbidden and didn't want to pull away. He then turned to you on his heel and you felt his eyes inspecting you, but it only made you curious—made you want to bite back. What was under that mask and why did he wear it? His presence seemed to bring new questions to light each time and you assumed most, if not all, would be left unanswered and swirling like tendrils of smoke in your mind.

Kylo then shook his head and slowly strode out, your eyes still locked on him—unable to pluck them away. The two troopers were ready to follow him out and you sent a barely noticeable nod to the one who kept your secret—FN-2187. He noticed. He was watching you the entire time, trying his damnedest to keep his mind quiet.

“The droid is in my quarters, bring it to her.” Kylo demanded and at that you face palmed.

 _Stupid, stupid, **stupid**_. Of course he had it the entire time. **Idiot**.

He chuckled to himself lowly, knowing that would make you squirm. He even made sure to say it when you could still here him.

* * *

You had to manually turn Beeree back on because they weren't turning on for anything. After a fit of curses—and pleads to spare them—they then realized it was you and now you two were simply catching up. Like single mothers at a luncheon.

“And then he was like, ‘I’m sad our game didn't last long’ or something ridiculous like that, and it fucking infuriated me,” You did an impression of Kylo Ren’s voice as you recalled his words—low and way off, “So long story short, I got eleven—”

“Actually, It was only nine.” Lyra interrupted from her spot in the corner, reading charts.

“Okay, **nine** , stitches in my side from a deadly and rather unreliable giant red lightsaber.”

_Is she telling the truth, doc?_

“Oh, B, I don't know if she can—”

“Yes. She is.” Lyra replied, proving you to be mistaken.

You gave her an impressed look, not many people knew how to speak droid. Granted, you were bilingual. It was something you had to learn both from growing up surrounded by creatures and from planet hopping in your bounty hunter days–that seemed to be the only favorable thing that came out of those times.

_You always assume. You're not always right, you know._

“It’s okay, really.” She offered a kind smile to the droid and Beeree chirped in return.

“ _See?_ I’m not always the bad guy.” You sighed, thinking.

In a way, it wasn't acceptable that she could understand Beeree. In fact, it was hindering. Another thing to be cautious about. You would have to stand by until she left before you could begin talking escape plans with Beeree, which wasted a fair amount of valuable time. Unless, you could write down your plans and have Beeree reply with only yes or no answers, just in case Lyra overheard. You honestly had no clue if she would be opposed to you escaping, but you also doubted that she would let it slide and have you go unnoticed. It seemed unimaginable.

“Lyra, could you bring me a paper and pen before you leave? Beeree and I like to play tic-tac-toe to pass the time.” She turned her head at you and nodded, her red curly hair bouncing as if it had a mind of it’s own.

“Absolutely. I was just about to leave, charts look good.” She then continued to walk out of your room. Beeree looked up at you, you could tell the droid was inquisitive. Lyra returned to your room shortly after, pen and paper in hand.

“Thank you, really.” You told her whilst taking the utensils from her.

 **Stars** , she was too nice. The fact that you were going behind her back left a sour taste in your mouth—a taste fused with guilt. You swallowed it down.

“No problem. Bye bye, now.” At that she left with a wave, leaving you to begin operation get-the-fuck-out.

You began to scribble down a plan, handwriting messy from writing words quickly.

 

> ** WE ARE ESCAPING TONIGHT. I HAVE LOCATED AN AREA THAT IS NOT GUARDED AND LEADS OUTSIDE. FROM THERE, WE NEED TO FIND A HANGAR. IF NOT, BACK TO OUR SHIP. I’VE MADE EVERYONE HERE UNDERESTIMATE ME BY PLAYING WITH THEM, THAT WAY IT WON’T BE AS EXPECTED. SAY YES OR NO ONLY. **

_Yes._

You smirked and gave the droid a thumbs up. Beeree stuck out a lighter to you in response—it was their way of giving a thumbs up. You busted out in laughter but let out a sharp hiss when the action reached your side, giving you a burst of pain. Okay, no laughing.

_I’ll snip his balls for doing that to you later._

“More leaving, less snipping, B.” You whispered.

This was actually going to work, you could feel it in your weary bones. The mission would be complete and you would live; Live to see all things corrupted made new again. _Rebirth._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just love Kylo and Hux bickering. I mean, who doesn't? So, next chapter focuses on operation get the fuck out!!! And Beeree is back!!! And safe!!! All is well!!! For now!!! (oops)
> 
> Feedback is appreciated and needed x


	7. Bloody Fantastic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Operation get-the-fuck-out has been set in motion and is moving at an easy and rapid pace—but not without Kylo Ren being given the knowledge of your breakout. What you don’t know, though, is that you will find yourself fighting for your life as you come in contact with the reason your life will be forever changed from this escape attempt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know if anyone would like me to post a link to the playlists I have for this fic? Also feedback is appreciated AND needed, guys!!! x

Getting out of the medical ward was a goddamn breeze, despite having to yank out your own iv, compared to when you attempted escape in the oscillator chamber—it helped to have Beeree at your side with all their shocking glory. That shit came in handy on the run, their taser, and using it on the troopers posted outside your medical room was a big ‘fuck you’ in droid language—possibly in human language too. Where your room was located was concealed from the main area where doctors and nurses stumbled around in a frenzy. And the floor you were located on, well, you were it’s only occupant. They had thought that isolating you from the other patients in the ward was clever, but considering how easily you slipped past it all and that were now heading towards the exit—you think you’ve proved your point on how idiotic their move was. 

Now it was only a matter of running with no weapon on you, just your rucksack and jacket and they so graciously left for you with all of its contents—including the chip—still located inside of it. Where they should be. They had confiscated your blaster, as expected, but there was no worry there—you had about 3 just like it. Your legs carried you down the dark hallway at a speed that made a statement, and that statement was you bidding an explosive farewell. 

_There’s more coming, you need a weapon._

“Shh!” You hushed. Beeree was always way too talkative in desperate times. You think they probably weren't aware beeps emitted from them when they spoke to you—an easy thing to assume for a droid.

A steady rhythm of pounding boots could be heard from the back of you. A march. Not a run. Perfect. If you could just slip into a corridor and wait for the trooper to pass, by you could easily take them out. But with _what?_

Slowing to a speed as soon as you saw a small space to lurk behind, you then scurried to it, Beeree following behind you. Surprisingly, they fit in the tight compact space just right. You fumbled with your zipped pockets, searching for _anything_ you could find. Your compass. That was it. Fucking _shit_ , you were going to have to do this the hard way—the my-legs-aren’t-going-to-thank-me-later way.

One armed trooper marched right past you and you eyed them from your dark concealment, not entirely ready—but packing a punch. _Inhale. Exhale._

Jumping over Beeree, you charged towards the trooper, reaching them before their brain could tell their muscles to react to your outburst of determination. They thrust their blaster out firing, it misfires as it collides with your boot punting it out of his grasp and landing with a clatter onto the floor. They throw a hearty punch at you and you react expeditiously, dodging the fist and then deflecting it with just as much enthusiasm, slamming their arm down with your elbow. They groan out and you jog backwards, urging them on. You needed a running start for what you were about to do.

It’s a fight or flight moment as he begins to race toward you and you're running straight into him before he can take three steps. You pummel him down to the ground and grasp his head, slamming it against the floor with ferocity. He struggles to get up and you twist, wrapping your legs around his neck and locking him in a triangle choke—squeezing his neck with your thighs to constrict the blood flow from the carotid arteries to the brain. He’s fighting for a gasp of air and squirming for a grasp to tear himself away from you—but there’s no escaping this death trap he was in. This was _your_ time to escape, **not** his. 

It’s only a matter of seconds until his struggle stops and he’s limp in between your legs. You’re panting rapidly, cold sweat building on your brow and skin, already exhausted from this insanely strenuous act. You unwrap your legs from his neck and kick him away, he limply flops over—unconscious and not to awaken anytime soon. Pulling yourself up, you nod at Beeree to come out and grab his blaster. Armed and _lethal._

That act earned a whistle from Beeree as they roll out from hiding and you roll your eyes at the inappropriate cheeky comment that followed after.

You two make a break for it, reaching an exit that leads to the vast and dark snowy grounds. The door smoothly slides open with a touch of a button and you herd Beeree behind you and keep your blaster aimed. It was nightfall—a horrible time to escape in all honesty, you couldn't see shit. Your eyes shifted to every corner, scanning and looking for anything and anyone. There was once again _nothing_ —history seemed to repeat itself.

A section of duracrete was laid out in front of the exit, most likely for reeling in injured troopers. Your boots and the sound of Beeree rolling overtop of it were the only sounds except for the ominous whispers of the blistering wind around you. You didn't miss the bitter cold snow whipping across your face and sticking to your eyelashes and you most _definitely_ didn't miss the frigid wetness seeping into your clothes. 

“Beeree, keep up!” You yelled out to the droid struggling in the snow behind you, “I know it’s hard, but I’ve got my compass. We make it out of this area, we’ll find the ship easy! I came in from the north!”

You could faintly hear the beeps coming from them but you knew you got a confirmation and that was all you needed. 

“I think we need to run this way!” You changed the direction you were currently running in to run around the side of the building in hopes to catch a glimpse the towering oscillator building, Beeree trying their damnedest to catch up. The poor droid was probably already experiencing the process of freezing bolts—an unpleasant experience you’ve heard.

 _There._ In the distance, the building to the oscillator. Damn, you were taken far. It was a straight shot from where you were—and a long one at that—but it told you your crash sight was just west of it. It was fucking incredible how this shit was working out for you, no guards posted out—yet. That was expected to happen soon though, _at least_ you had a blaster in your grasp now. 

Compass now in hand, you squint at it trying to make out the exact way it was pointing and given that there was no light to shed on it, it was rather difficult. But you managed. The arrow was spinning—undecided and wasting time. Just your damn luck, honestly. 

“Whatever,” You mumbled underneath your breath, “Look, I crashed on the outskirts of that forest… Or was it that one?"

_You’ve got to be kidding me. You’re lost, aren't you?_

“Just let me think, alright!” You hissed. You pinched the bridge of your nose and shut your eyes, searching for answers—for _anything._

You weren't lost, you couldn't be. The memory of the direction you walked in from was faint—but it was there, the images of the hill you dragged yourself up to sprouted in your mind and were no longer left concealed. You peered up, the hill was there. 

“I know where to go.” 

You kept your gaze forward as you ran to your destination—a bad decision. Losing your footing, you stepped right off a small cliff and fell side first and yelped out. Rock formations could be felt underneath your head and against the bony parts of your body as you plummeted down the slope, rolling and diving. One particular rock underneath the snow rubbed against your side—the side that was covered in nine stitches now nearly bursting at the seams. You groan out and stretch your arms upwards trying to grasp something, feeling some stitches finally break free and tear away from your wound. A burning scream emits from your throat and you shut your eyes tightly, taking in deep shaky breaths through your nose. This was getting to be ridiculous and you felt stupid for attempted this escape. How the fuck were you supposed to go on like this? Your lip quivered slightly as you moved your arms to grab ahold of your waist and roll yourself into a ball. Stars, this felt like your flesh was ripping all over again!

Concerned beeps come from the top of the cliff and you sigh, still clenching your side fiercely.

“I’m fine, B.” You groan. In all honesty, you weren’t but that couldn't get in the way. Not now. Nothing could slow you down. 

You pull yourself up by your arms with gritted teeth from being practically buried in the snow and hoist your leg up to climb. Your boot slips and you lose grip, sending you sliding down the slope again—this time at a far less abrasive speed.

"Fuck!" You whisper to yourself. You hate this—you hate everything. 

Turning over on your back, you looked up at the night sky, seeing puffs of air coming from your hot breath intermixing with the stars up above—making it seem like there was a nebula above you. Your head was spinning as you got up and you practically whimpered at the pain in your side. Lifting up your arm, you inspected your side. Blood was seeping through the bandage covering your stitches and down by your feet was tainted snow. Your stolen blaster and rucksack had fallen with you apparently and you bent down to pick them up. Fucking _shit,_ you were clumsy as hell.

Trudging along and pushing through the pain, you head for the dark tree line just ahead of you, yelling at Beeree to follow along and to avoid the small cliff. You remembered your ship was crashed just at the edge of a tree line, so you ran against it—searching for your piece of shit ride out of here in the pitch black night. The snow was so bright though, it _seemed_ to give light but obviously it didn't considering your were knocking branches out of your way every second as they left marks on your face and arms. You were genuinely running for your life, paranoia settled in your bones and you were in a constant state of feeling watched—it sent butterflies to your stomach and it only made you run harder. Your blaster grazing wound on your leg at healed up nicely, thank the stars. You didn't even remember it till now—which was a good thing, that meant one less injury to deal with.

All you could think about was sleep, which you shouldn't be but G _od_ how your bones ached for it. You wanted nothing more than to sleep in your ship in the middle of space, cold and desolate and away from everyone— _everything._ This thought made fear lurch out of you, not fear of this place and the people—fear of not making it out. Of getting this far only to fail your mission and be a constant reminder of how easy it was to fail—to die. You've said that death would be better than being kept alive to live a life in chains but at the moment, if you died right now you'd be a nothing but legacy of disappointment and a spot to fill. 

Things began to look familiar—the hill you had climbed after arriving here was ahead of you and that meant you were close. You turned your head as you ran and clutched your rucksack as it bounced against your back, its contents making noise as they rattled around. Up ahead, you could see flattened trees in the darkness of the forest—from your ship as it crashed into the icy planet. 

_Oh, I remember! It’s over—_

“HERE!” You exclaimed, finishing Beeree’s sentence. It was just ahead, the darkness of the night made the ship appear as a silhouette but there was something else. Lights. Lights could be seen inside of your ship, moving and flickering. Someone was in there, lurking about—trying to find materials or even worse, _you._

* * *

 “You piece of _shit._ ”

“What did I do _now_ , Ren?” The monotonous general replied, he was rather busy when the bothersome knight came bursting into his quarters. Couldn't he groom his cat in _peace?_

“ **Breathe.** ” Replied the steaming younger man in all of his unmasked glory.

He strode over to where the red headed general was sitting at his desk with his cat atop it, its belly exposed and tail happily flicking about due to it being its annual grooming hour. Groaning, he started to tap his foot impatiently—though he was most certainly not going to wait on this pointless act.

“Can you stop brushing that _thing?”_ He spat.

Offended and appalled at the reference, the general sighed and put the brush down—turning his swivel chair to the knight. “She has a _name_ , you know. _Mill-i-cent._ ”

Millicent mewed at Kylo, her meow laced with as much sass as a cat could convey—which appeared to be a lot.

Kylo shrugged and gave both Millicent and Hux a bewildered look. “I don’t _care._ Forget the damn cat, Hux.” He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose in annoyance, “We need to discuss the girl.”

“Well, in my opinion—theres nothing _to_ discuss.” The general smirked, pleased with his proposition in mind, “You already know of it, but I think a spot in the order would fit her perfectly. Not too snug.”

“THAT’S NOT AN OPTION, HUX!” The general held up a hand submissively, he was used to the raising of voices that came with working with Kylo Ren. Kylo straightened, irked by his sudden outburst.

“That’s not an option,” He repeated calmly, taking a deep breath, “You don't know what I know.”

He began to pace, his mind was racing—the girl being the fasted thing moving about in his frazzled mind. She couldn't be sent back, no—that would be a recipe for disaster. She wasn't aware—hasn’t triggered and noticed the force coursing through her bloodstream. If she did on her _own_ it was only a matter of time before she would be dead—and that was blood he did not want on his hands. But keeping her… shit. That was another story, she has no filter—no concept of control. Absolutely _terrible._ He had no fucking clue what to do. In all honesty, all he _wanted_ to do was figure her out—but that was deemed impossible the minute he laid eyes on her.

“Then let me suggest a different approach. Given that she is rather tenacious, I think it would be wise to have her aid Captain Phasma in reinforcing her troops somehow.” The general went back to tending to his precious feline, disinterested in watching the frantic knight pace around his room like a mad man.

Hux _did_ have a point. She’d be out of his way, that’s for sure—which benefited him _immensely._ But on the other hand, it wouldn’t. Should she trigger her first encounter with the force _here_ , she would be slaughtered on the spot by the man who loomed over Kylo with a shadow so dark it rumbled. The Supreme Leader— _Snoke._ The mere thought of encountering him with the knowledge of her existence floating in his brain made him cringe visibly. If only Hux knew. This was why every possible fucking outcome for this girl, this _criminal_ , was death—and here he was fighting for a different one. He doesn't have one goddamn reason for his actions when it came to her. Why was he attempting to save this girl from a death sentence? Perhaps it was because he knew she would be blind sighted by death—not knowing why she would be killed for harnessing an incredible power. Or maybe it was because he was a selfish pathetic excuse of a human being who only wanted to figure her out. He’d get in there one day. One day…

“S-sir, I hate to interrupt this, what appears to be, important talk b-but—”

Kylo interrupted the young lieutenant, Mitaka, who had come to deliver news he already knew about from a simple probe of the mind. 

“ESCAPED? **SHE’S GONE?** ” He roared, flinching at sudden anger emerging from him and the mental image of her empty medical cot. His hands twitched as he refrained from snatching his lightsaber out of it’s holster and igniting to tear something to shreds. _How_ could he have let his happen? 

Mitaka was trembling from head to toe, he would not wish the look Kylo Ren was giving him on his worst enemy. Never again will he be delivering news to him—he would glady dig his grave the next time someone asked him of this. “Y-yes, I regret to also inform you she—”

“She’s going to her ship. I know where it is.” He shoved the lieutenant out of the way as he stormed out, fists balled and shaking, “Get the fuck out of my way.” 

And with that, he was out of the room with his helmet back on—leaving the general, the lieutenant, and Millicent the cat all perplexed.

 _Idiots_ , the bunch of them. How could she have slipped out of their grasps—his grasps. This was not beyond his control, he has had _countless_ of prisoners. Oh how she was proving to be not your average hostage though. Every second he’s had with her, everything seemed to have a tilt shift focused on her. Anyone who had her in their line of sight could see the difference in her. This only made him even more enraged—how could they see her ways and not take more precautions? How could he let them be so _casual_ with her? How had she even manipulated _his_ people into thinking they could let their guard down around her? There were so many questions running in his mind, he could scream—scream until his voice went out permanently. 

He needed to see it for himself—the empty hospital room, the empty sheets unmade, the iv hanging limp from not being attached to someone. He could already picture it in his mind despite a gazillion other things joining this image. His body had already carried him to the medical wing without him even deciding where he wanted to go. Faces of guilt and terror came into view as he stormed through the wing straight to her room.

 _Empty. Silent._ ** _Dead._** Just like her _fucking_ mind to him. This was his fault—he could have stopped this by chaining her to a wall to leave her be in the dark of a cell. He could have had her strapped to the hospital bed, unable to move without permission. He could have done so many things to prevent her escape—to prevent _this._ But he didn’t. _He_ picked up her unconscious body, battered and bloody at the hand of him. _He_ carried her to the medical wing, shouting at troopers to hold fire and alert a doctor. _He_ gave her the droid. _He_ did **all** of this—and he was paying for it. How stupid he had become. How fucking _ridiculous_. His entire body was shaking with pure rage. He _hates_ himself.

Flexing his fingers, the pillow lifted into the air and tore in half, feathers spewing everywhere in the room in it’s demise. The sheet lifted into the air and tore in strips one by one. It was absolutely terrifying how calm he was—he has surpassed crazed rage. He was the embodiment of fury. He wouldn't resort to destroying the room with his unstable lightsaber—oh no, he wouldn't give the people surrounding him the pleasure of seeing him unfold. He was going to _drag_ her back here. And **not** for Hux’s audacious proposition. 

With a turn of his heel, he brushed passed the doctors and nurses that had gathered to watch his controlled tantrum—dreading cleaning up the mess he had left for them. Taking long strides, he headed straight for exit on the side—finding a dead man’s body lying in the middle of the hallway. No doubt _her_ doing. He stepped over it without another thought, the only thing on his mind was finding her. Yet, only one thing stood in the way and loomed over him—he had no fucking idea what to _do._

* * *

As it turns out, there _was_ someone in your ship and as you inched closer you kept low—afraid to let them see you. This would have to be another silent and quick attack, you couldn't risk someone else around hearing. You just needed to _get off_ this planet and if killing someone was going to get that done, then so be it.

You turned and put up a halting hand to Beeree to signal to them that they needed to stay put. They turned and rolled away to hide behind a tree but peered their head out worriedly from behind it. You ignored it and headed for the snow covered ship, crouching and walking against the side of it with your blaster in hand. Quietly reaching into your rucksack, you got our your leather gloves and slipped them on—your hands were beginning to cease up form the cold. Not the best time for that at the moment.

The footsteps echoing inside of the ship didn't sound like trooper boots, they sounded heavier—sturdier. You shut your eyes and listened, keeping your heartbeat steady and attempting to stop the shiver that crawled out of your body from the frigid winds and whirling snow. Thank stars it was dark, you could hide in the shadows and be completely unseen here. 

Creeping to the opened entrance of the ship, you leapt up to grab ahold of a bar on the top of the ship above the entrance and swing your legs forward kicking the man inside of your ship square in the chest to send him flying back. Jumping down, you stalk towards him as he’s rubbing his black haired head from the impact. He wasn't a stormtrooper, he appeared to be an officer of some sort. A higher rank, maybe.

But an asshole, nevertheless. 

Your eyes are burning into him with rage as he stands up and suddenly grabs at your throat and slams you down. But you thrusted your elbow forward, knocking him in _his_ throat, making him cough and sputter for the moment. It wasn't good enough, you whipped over to your belly and pulled yourself up—eyes scanning the entry hallway you two were in for anything you could grab. There was nothing, how _useless._

He's behind you in an instant and you whip around to grab his collar with one hand and us the other for support on the ground. Much like your last leg assault, you lift both legs and wrap them around him—one placed behind his knee, one on his abdomen; he's locked in a scissor throw. He yells out, feeling whiplash as you commit this fast acting attack. Twisting your waist to rotate both of your legs in a backward direction, you topple him in that direction—sending him falling on his back with the back of his head bashing against the floor of your ship. Curling upwards, you send a blow to his throat with your elbow, making him gasp out from the wind being knocked out of him, and proceed to kick straight out of the entrance of your ship. He tumbles over the ramp extended outside of it and face plants into the snow.

Thinking he's knocked out, you quickly hoist yourself up and begin pressing the closing button and panting rapidly. It isn't closing—and he's attempting to fucking get up, the _fucker._ You're basically punching the button with your fist and screaming at it to close now—though, it isn't helping.

"Come on!" You yell through gritted teeth, jumping slightly from your impatience growing.

Growling, you turn and head for the front of the ship, you know he's about to get up and the goddamn door isn't closing so you have no other options except to find a weapon. It wasn't like you could just _head outside_ and grab the blaster you threw on the snow, he'd probably fucking clock you in the head.

You make a run for it, knowing where a knife was located in the open area of the ship where it met the cockpit. He ran after you, grabbing your hair and pulling you back—but not before you got your hands on that knife. Keeping the knife concealed, you kept one arm at your side. You yelped out, hair pulling was the fucking _worst._

 **“FUCKING LET GO OF MY _HAIR_ , YOU _SON_ OF A _BITCH!”_** You screeched, clawing for his hands behind you with one arm. He only pulled you closer so he could speak in your ear and you yelped out once more.

“Now why would I let a pretty thing like you out of my sight, huh?” He gruffly whispered into your ear, his breath hot on your cheek and ear. You sneered, appalled at the creep route he was taking. It was always the fucking pervs. 

You tried to tug away but your scalp denied that and kept you locked in his grasp. Then, your eyes caught a glimpse of light outside the viewport of your cockpit, growing closer and closer. It was moving, like a speeder of some sort. Fuck, you needed to act now. 

Ducking and twisting, your hair twisted with you but you got a good angle of this jackass’s throat and your hand craved it. You wanted to rip this guys jugular out—you knew the terrible things he wanted to with you and he would fucking _pay._

 _Fucking put your hands on me again, I **dare** you,_ you taunted in your head. With a quick movement of you arm, you slashed his throat and watched as blood spurted out rapidly. It covered your chest and arm and you stood there in complete shock at what you had done. His eyes widened to the point where they could have popped out and he took his hand from your hair to grasp his neck in an attempt to save his life—but he was a dead man. His blood was _truly_ on your hands. He dropped to his knees in front of you and you stumbled back, almost falling yourself, as he limply fell forward onto your knee—blood now showering your legs. You kneed him off of you and went to drag him by the arm out of your now blood-covered ship to get away from whoever was coming now. 

A lump formed in your throat as you drug his heavy lifeless body out—tears brimming your once light eyes, now they no doubt had a darkness to them. Your entire body trembled—not from the cold, no, certainly not from that. This was a deep penetration into who you were as a person. Sure, you've shot a man dead, choked them, but slicing someones throat and letting the blood gush out onto your skin—that was a new one. 

You laid him in the snow and stared at the scene in front of you in disbelief. His blood was in your hair, on your chest—it was _everywhere._ It left a trail in the snow as well. In that moment, you knew this scene would _haunt_ you for the rest of your days.

Feeling nausea rise in your throat, you hunched over and vomited in the snow and began to dry heave as you sobbed loudly. You braced your arms on your knees, looking into where blood and vomit met in the snow—coexisting. You couldn't fucking _believe_ this.

"I-I-I'm—" _A psychopath._ The words wouldn't leave your lips— **couldn't.**  

Sighing, you wiped your eyes but quickly realized you would only be rubbing the mans blood on your face. You probably looked like you fucking _ate_ the bastard.

You just straight up _killed_ someone. You were a **murderer.** _No,_ _it was for self defense,_ you told yourself, _who knows what he would have done to me if I didn't take action._

But was it? Did you do this out of spite? Out of rage?

These questions could be handled later, you whistled to Beeree to come aboard the ship and the quickly rolled up the ramp of the entrance—head following the body that lay in the ground.

_Holy fucking shit, Kid._

“ **I know.** ” You said in a warning tone, you didn't want to discuss this. Not ever. 

Running to the cockpit, you jumped into the pilot seat and immediately began pressing buttons for take off. You looked up and saw the speeder just ahead of you and locked eyes with none other than Kylo Ren.

So, someone _did_ find out about your escape—as expected. He pulled up to about ten feet way from you to get out of the snow speeder he came in to stare at the dead body drenched in blood that laid in the snow outside your ship. He then looked to you and could make out the blood on your face and neck—you just _knew_ he was adding things up.

Hot tears streamed down your cheeks, you were stressed and overwhelmed. You _really_ needed to fucking leave because staying here after all the mess you’ve caused in only a matter of days would surly reserve a special place for you in hell—aka a cell block They wouldn't kill you. They wouldn't give you the pleasure of killing you, you could almost laugh at the thought. No. They’d torture you for hours on end. And with this thought, you let the ship rise and watched at snow fell off the top. Kylo kept his gaze locked on yours despite being behind his helmet from his spot underneath you and you put the piece of shit into hyperspace—never to look back. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Glossary
> 
> Scissor Throw: The Kani-basami (Scissors throw) consists of scissoring the opponent's upper body between your legs and toppling him in the backward direction.  
> Triangle Hold: A triangle choke, or sankaku-jime (三角絞) in Judo, is a type of figure-four chokehold which strangles the opponent by encircling the opponent's neck and one arm with the legs in a configuration similar to the shape of a triangle. The technique is a type of lateral vascular restraint that constricts the blood flow from the carotid arteries to the brain.
> 
> OKAY. Well, that was pretty… yup. lol, reader don’t mess around. What a pleasant escape amiright? Also I so did a play on words with the title of the chapter and I'm not sorry.


	8. The Hunted

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A cloud of shame looms over you after the grotesque events that transpired during your violent escape and you're left with nothing but self loathing to mediate with as you seek the guidance of Leia Organa. Upon your departure, Kylo Ren immediately seeks you out to bring you back from your attempts to wiggle out of the grasp of the First Order—even if it involves saving your life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *NOTICE* *clears throat* Beeree's words are the italic print replies, if anyone is ever confused. Carry on.

_“It’s sad but it’s true. You need to be able to protect yourself.”_

_“But… I don't want to.” A small bare foot kicks the ground, frustrated and confused. Naive to life._

_“You have to,” A hand brushes your hair back, it’s warm. “You’ll see in time.”_

_You peer up, the blinding sun makes you scrunch up your face but you still seek to look at him. Your father._

_“Do I have to kill anyone?”_

_“Hopefully not—hopefully I’ll be the one doing that because nobody can lay a finger on my star!” He scoops up your lanky body and a squeal emits from you as his booming laugh overpowers it. You are safe. You will_ **_always_ ** _be safe._

* * *

You are not safe. You will **never** be safe. His words still echoed in the back of your mind, you still remembered his voice—remembered his laugh. 

Oh, how he was wrong. You were so naive and your tiny world was all you knew, you didn't know the graphic pain that sought after you—didn’t know that you would once feel like a collision course waiting to collide with something or someone. You didn't know that he would _not_ be doing the dirty work for you. You didn't know that someday you’d be sitting in a halted ship in the middle of space, crumbled up like a piece of paper and covered in the blood of a man you killed. _You killed…_

Now _those_ images played in your mind, as if they haven’t been for the past hour. Thinking was your worst enemy—your mind was. But that’s something you can’t escape, just like the image in your head playing over and over of the blood gushing from the slit in his throat and his entire life reflecting in his eyes. You looked into them, his eyes, as the everlasting darkness pulled him down and you were now the only living thing in your ship. And the worst part of it all? You could feel the life leaving his body—could feel the knife of death smoothly gliding into you. The feeling was penetrating, that was the only way you could describe it, and it sat there residing within you.

Your bloody hands and exposed arms from rolled up sleeves hung limply over your knees as you sat up against the wall of the ship, trembling—seething. Staring into space was your chosen activity as you simply let your thoughts consume you. You shouldn't be angry with the man still. You should feel hideous, but all you could feel was antipathy and your mental clock picking up where it left off—waiting for an absolution. You knew in the back of your mind somewhere that you didn't need one, that this wasn't truly a murder. But his eyes—shit, his eyes would haunt you for the rest of your days. They never closed. It was as if his body was trying to convince itself that this didn't happen—that you didn't just cut his life off like a strand of hair with splitting ends, begging to be rid of.

And then there was the urgency that made it okay, it desperately tried to overthrow your self-hatred thoughts but it was barely there to make a difference. You still knew it though—knew that he was a sick man and his cold hands were inches away from dominating you in an act so evil it wouldn't even haunt him and _that’s_ what made a difference. Should you not have killed him, should you have waited one more minute—you could be violated and left for dead right now. _You_ saved yourself.

Another sob ripped through you and you limply fell on your side, hugging your legs to you tightly. You cried for that bastard. You cried for you. You cried for the world—for the galaxy. You were completely confused, at a loss for words. You were lost. It was impossible _not_ to question everything you’ve ever done right now. You knew what was right and wrong, just like you knew you did not kill that man out of pure spite—faint, but there. But choosing to immerse yourself in that belief, that was much harder than it looked. It nipped at your heels but time and time again you outran it. 

You straightened. There were no more tears to be shed, you’ve outcried yourself. It was time to pick yourself up, literally, and talk to her. Talk to Leia. Yes, you needed that. She was knowledge—and you sought after her.

Crawling on the floor, you looked for your holopad to call up Leia. Of course, they took it. _Of course._

 _Typical officers,_ you thought, _they take every item to confiscate and then they just—found it._

You made a quiet ‘Ah-ha!’ noise as you grabbed the holopad from underneath your pilot chair. It must have slid under there after the crash, though you had every reason to believe that jackass took it.

Turning around, you looked around for Beeree. Where were they? You just remembered you hadn't seen them since they came aboard, you weren't exactly in the most stable state of mind in the past hour so you hadn't kept up with them.

“B, where did you go?” You yelled out, trying to peer down the hallway adjacent to you.

Some chipper beeps followed after and they came speeding down the hallway, _very_ excited to see you _not_ in a heap of sorrow on the floor.

_I thought you would never snap out of it! You were in a complete daze, you didn't even see or hear me so I just left you to wait somewhere else._

“I’m sorry. I don’t know what came over me, honestly. I just…”

_It’s okay. Are you okay? Please be okay._

“I don’t know.” You sighed heavily, your eyes felt swollen from crying so much—how gross.   “I do know I need to talk to Leia, though.”

You gave a pat to the top of the droids head and lifted yourself up off the ground to settle into the pilots seat. Calling up the main resistance cam, you readied yourself. You probably looked like shit—like, you were covered in blood for fuck’s sake, of course you looked like shit. Who wouldn’t?

A face popped up in the hologram—not the one you expected, though. 

“Hey, you. We—oh. _Oh._ Holy shit what the hell happened to you? Why are you—” 

You grew annoyed and put up a hand to silence them. It was a Jessika and while you were good friends with her, it again wasn't the face you wanted to see. But it would suffice.

“Where’s Leia?” You were never one to beat around the bush, so opting to cut to the chase right now was needed. You weren't going to deny your obvious disappointment.

She shifted a bit, still astounded and confused by your appearance—you could tell it put her off a bit. Well, it _really_ put you off so she’s gonna have to deal with it. “She had a hearing to attend to in The Republic. She would want to hear from you and I’m sure you do right now but I’m all you got. Sorry.”

“It’s fine, at least it’s a familiar face,” Your lips tugged up a bit for a moment, it didn't last. “I don’t want to run through the whole thing right now because I’ve been torturing myself with it for the past hour but… shit, Jessika. I got it. I got the map of the base.”

“Holy balls, that’s great news!” She got silenced by an onlooker and quickly said an apology—embarrassed by her profanity in front of people—before turning back to you, “But that doesn't explain why you're covered in blood?"

You looked down at your hands, fiddling with them as tears brimmed your eyes and your face got hot. This was your failure. Your voice broke when you spoke, “I got caught and injured in a fight by some asshole commander named Kylo Ren.  I was being kept in the medical ward and I got out, with the help of Beeree, and while escaping I…” 

You visibly shook as a sob threatened to break through. Not again. 

“You what?” Her face was plastered with anguish.

Meeting her eyes through the hologram, you pulled yourself together, “When I found the Infinitum in it’s crash sight, there was someone in there—a man. He was an officer, I believe. Which could put me in some deep shit,” You took a deep breath, shaken still, “I took him down but he kept coming after me. He grabbed me by my hair and made me feel uncomfortable and shit… I was so scared, Jessika."

You sobbed, feeling the raw fear creep through your veins as if it was happening all over again, “Oh god, I had to kill him. I-I had to, he was going to… to molest me? I don't know. His hands, _fuck_ , his hands were on me,” A shaky breath you didn't know you were holding came out as you tried to calm yourself, “But stars, Jess. The way I killed him terrifies me to the bone. It makes me question if I did it out of self defense or rage. I can’t tell if I’m a survivor… or a murderer. Does this make me one? Am I public enemy number one? Am I—” 

“Kriff! **Stop!** ” You silenced yourself at this. Rambling has become a defense mechanism of yours it seems. She let out a huff as she processed your story and she too was shaken. This wasn't exactly what she expected to hear—she expected to hear a ‘I’m heading back, mission complete!’ not a ‘I just killed someone.” 

“Alright. And _how_ did you kill him?”

You looked away. “I slit his throat.”

“That explains the blood,” You felt embarrassed—ashamed. “Okay, you’re okay. You were in danger and you did what you must. I know you and I know that you would _never_ kill someone for nothing. You _are_ a survivor.”

Were you? It didn't feel like it—not with the rage coursing through you and pumping your heart. Hate was attempting to settle in your heart and make itself at home, but it was a shitty roommate and it had to go. 

“There’s my spy, how’re you holdin’— _woah._ ” A new voice came through the holocall along with a new face. Poe. You would have been happy to see him if you didn't look the way you did—it seemed to be a showstopper, your looks. And not in a pleasant way.

“What the hell happened to you? Who—”

“Shh! She’s a mess, yes. Does she wanna talk about it? No.” She pushed him aside and scolded him as you blankly stared at them, “I’ll explain later.”

“No, it’s fine. Really. Hey, P.” Your voice was so flat—lifeless. Were you still alive? Did _you_ die? You gave a small wave, hoping he’d buy into your lazy attempt at covering up your trauma. “I’m sorry I look like… yeah.”

“Leia’s gonna be piss—”

“Get out!”

“Alright, alright. I was just trying to talk to her—”

“ **Out!** ” 

You chuckled a bit. It felt like forever since you’ve seen them— _talked_ to them. Odd to think it’s only been a few days.  

“So, status normal then?” You offered some wit, things needed to be lightened up. This pain— _this rage_ —will pass.

“Yeah, Poe’s still… well, Poe.”

“I get that.”

“Where’s Beeree? BB-8 says they miss them.”

You peered to the back of the cockpit and scanned it to find Beeree, they were just silently sitting and waiting. Such a calming presence, they were. Well, when they were sassing anything that breathed. It was nice.

“Oh, they're back here. B, Jessika wants to see you.”

 _Finally. Someone who isn't going to kill you. Hi, Jess._  

“It’s good to see you—both of you, really.” She smiled sadly and you returned it, both sharing the same feeling, “Listen, I gotta run. But… back… device…”

“Wait, Jess. You’re breaking up.” You reached over to tap the holopad a few times, shook it, tried to stop it, but nothing happened. This was strange. 

Then it shut off on its own, you scrunched up your face in confused as you blankly stared at where the hologram would have been. Immediately after, red flashing lights and alarm sounds filled the ship—blazing and warning you. You hopped out of your seat, mind alerted and wanting to find the source of this damn alarm.

Beeree rolled away to sniff out the problem to an area where a hissing sound was coming from the bottom caging of the ship—where the motivator was located. You already knew what was happening as facts on ships from textbooks flooded your mind. It was bad—it was really, _really_ bad. 

_It’s the motivator!_

“I know,” You groaned and walked over to it, lifting the heavy caging above the mechanics of the ship—hurting your side in the process. Good **grief** , how beat up were you? No time to get those ripped stitches fixed anytime soon, though. You winced a bit as you fiddled with the bloodied gauze on your side, it was a dull pain now at least. “Ugh. The propulsion tank will overflow and fill the ship with poisonous gas if I don't patch it up. But what the hell caused it?”

You unzipped your black flight suit and shrugged off the sleeves, tying the sleeves around your hips. Leaping down into the area underneath the floor, you began to inspect it. Upon first glance, you knew you needed tape. Hell, you didn't even know if you _had_ some on you—let alone have the time to look for it. It appeared to be stressed and ready to overflow for months. How you didn't catch this fault beforehand, you didn't perceive. You spent hours checking _everything_ all the time, for it was always on the spot when you could be sent to go somewhere so having a well running ship was extremely crucial. 

“Shit.” You whispered underneath your breath. “I don’t have tape on me. I know it—it’s not something I always carry.”

_Can’t you use something else? A shirt? Towel?_

“No. It’s not exactly something I can just _plug up_ , B.” You held your forehead, thinking, “Actually, where’s my toolbox? If I can screw in a makeshift sheetmetal cover overtop the opening of the propulsion tank, it may delay the leakage and hold it off till I can get back to D’Qar… but we need to act fast. Ship will blow up if I don’t do this right.”

_You sure you wanna take that risk? But what about the escape pods?_

“Well, they’re not exactly… working.” You laughed nervously, reminiscing on the last time you attempted to use them—they almost went into self destruct. So, needless to say; that was not an option today.

Hoisting yourself up to the main floor of the ship, you kept your feet below but leaned over the floor to grab your toolbox from a table. Reaching for it, you tugged it from a handle and it fell to the floor—making the array of tools spill out messily onto the floor with a series of clatters. _Oops._  

Rummaging through the pile of tools and accessories, you found what you needed rather quickly as the mess came in handy—a few screws, a screw driver, and a piece of sheetmetal that would act as a closed vent. You inspected the sheetmetal for a moment, seeing that it wouldn't fit properly without some customization added to it.

“Beeree, come here,” You waved them over, needing something important. They rolled to you, eager to please. “I need your welding torch to shape this so it can correctly wrap around the tank and seal the gas once it starts releasing.”

They extended the welding torch and you placed the metal to the flame, shaping and molding it so it could do it’s job properly and save your asses. Your black gloves protected your hands from the heat as you turned it and watched the flame melt and curve it. Seeing that it was fit to place on the tank, you moved it away from the flame and began to blow on it to cool it. Beeree retracted their welding torch and bent their head to peer at it and inspect it as well.

_Looks good to me. Good call, girl._

You chuckled, feeling a slight weight lifted off your shoulders. Not too shabby for a last minute fixer-upper. You gave yourself a mental pat on the back and promised yourself a glass of whiskey.

Grabbing the screws and screwdriver, you bent back down into the under part and began to place the screws into the proper holes on the sheetmetal. Placing the still warm sheetmetal onto an opening of the tank, you starting screwing it into place—making sure it would be secure as you did. But something wasn’t right, it wobbled in place—uneven and moving like chattering teeth from the pressure building up inside of it. You could smell it, the gas, and realized it’s already been leaking. You placed your hand over the opening, feeling for cold air—it was there, blowing slightly against the palm of your hand. 

“Oh, kriff! Fuck, fuck…” _Fuck._ Hopping out of the underfloor, you quickly scoured the ship for gas masks—anything really. Finding no luck, you grabbed the bottom of your tank top and held it over your face. It’s not like it would help any. You didn't know what the fuck to do—you could die on this shitty ship.

* * *

 

 **Gone.** She was gone again, leaving behind an officer murdered at the hands of her. What a goddamn mess to clean up, it was embarrassing almost—having a simple girl kill a commanding officer and then letting her go right in front of him. But Kylo Ren was learning very quickly that she was not a simple girl, she was truly a force to be reckoned with—literally and figuratively. The force that was pumping through her veins seemed to send sonic booms in her wake as she fled the scene, reverberating through the knight’s mind and leaving echo’s of a fear he didn't know he could have. It only enraged him, like most things did, but this was a different rage. This rage was an ocean and its waves were causing him to stomp his way up to the hangar, where he would leave immediately to retrieve the girl—she could not leave.

He shouted commands to move to troopers who passed by him in the dark hallways leading to the hangar, determined in his stride. Not paying mind to the general that was speed-walking behind him like a deranged animal and yelling obscenities his way.

“And just what to you think you’re doing, Ren? She’s left, yes! But does that mean you have to go fetch her, N—" 

“Yes!” Kylo hissed, finishing the sentence for General Hux—the rat. He was murky and slimy like one, swimming through the sewers that was Kylo Ren’s business. “We have a tracker on her ship, they are conducting reconnaissance already.”

Hux struggled to keep up with Kylo’s rapid pace, his legs were far longer, and often slammed into puzzled lieutenants looking upon the scene before them. “It’s always the same thing with you! You don’t even have a plan, do you? Just because you never figured out what to do with the girl, doesn't mean you have to drag her back here so you can!” He yelled towards him, eyebrow twitching in fury, “She’ll most likely die out there, Ren. We haven't figured out where it is she came from!” 

“Doesn’t matter. She sought us out—she was sent here by _someone._ ” They turned a corner, nearing the hangar. Rock formations on the wall illuminated by red and white lights surrounded them, making it darker—almost adding deep undertones to the conversation. 

“Then we must alert Supreme Lea—”

A grab by the collar and a violent slam against the wall prevented the fuming General from saying another word. Kylo brought his masked face close to the General, heaving with rage and chest burning like an open flame. He reached into his mind—saw his plans to strut up to the Supreme Leader and talk about the girl without knowing the grave danger behind his revelation of her existence. 

“You will **not** alert Supreme Leader Snoke of her presence or so help me God I will burn you to the ground until you are nothing but cinder and smoke. Do I make myself clear, _General?”_ His voice held a darkness to it that told the General there was more to the story than Kylo was telling—and he wanted to hear this story as if it were a child’s bedtime story. But his tone forced him to not press the issue. “And who said **I** would be the one getting her?"

He slid the General down but kept gloved hands ahold of his collar, shoving him backwards. “Leave. Prepare plasma bars in a room on the Finalizer medbay and in a containment cell. I’ll strengthen it when I’m there.” 

With that, he strode off, black robes whipping about from quick wind—leaving Hux once again perplexed by his unspoken knowledge of the girl and wanting to pry to get it out of him. Though, ideas have sparked in his mind as to what he could be hiding from him. 

 _How easy it was to lie to the General,_ thought Kylo. Gullible and weak he proved himself to be by believing his words with physical threats. If everyone in the galaxy was like Hux, he would have been in control _long_ before now. But it only granted him, _not_ the permission of going through with his plan to get the girl, but the _power_ to overthrow him and go through with it—which was more meaningful than permission to him anyways. 

As he reached the hangar, he walked straight to his command ship that was prepared for take off—silently cursing himself as he remembered what an awful pilot he was. It would seem that he didn't learn much from his childhood and the thought of lessons on piloting itched at his brain—tickling it with searing pain. An itch that would never be scratched.

A trooper standing guard of his ship straightened as if he was lallygagging beforehand, and went to salute him. Oh, how the military stances taken around here were becoming insufferable to Kylo. He paid no mind to the trooper as he strode up the ramp. Still not having a single clue what the fuck he was doing with this girl.

Of all the fucking people in the galaxy in had to be **her** that would force him to do this. 

* * *

After about five minutes of arguing with Beeree about how unprepared you are ship wise—something you already knew, it’s quite obvious how reckless you could be—the effects of breathing in the poisonous gas were starting to become more apparent. You laid yourself on the ground of the ship, trying desperately to not breath in the gas by holding your breath for as long as you could as you felting yourself draining. 

The escape pods were sounding like the better option but at the moment, moving your limbs felt like miles away and your head was pounding. It felt like pressure was building in your brain, pushing at the walls of your skull—it seemed like brain matter would be bursting from the seams anytime now. Fatigue ( _or was it a dizzying spiral into madness?)_ was settling in your bones. What a way to go. 

“B, please make sure I stay awake.” You whispered, though you couldn't tell if you said it out loud or not. It seemed like it. How did you get in this _godforsaken_ mess? 

You could have gotten in the damn escape pod with Beeree. You could have patched up  the tank in time if you had properly inspected the ship beforehand. You could have done so many things to prevent this exact moment from happening—to prevent you from a complete delirious imbecile. What went wrong with you? Why weren't you on your A game? _Where did you go?_

But no, you didn't do _any_ of that. And now you were splayed out across the floor, in the middle of fucking space, staring up at a _stupid_ viewport—stars stretching and spinning in your vision as your dizziness increased tenfold. Your eyes were red and stinging as tears slipped down your cheek and pooled on the side of your neck, wet and sticking to your messy hair. 

It felt like you were floating—like you were light as air or nonexistent. It felt like your arm had reached up to grab at the gravity you swear could feel slipping away, though, no arm lifted up to do so. It felt like a nightmare. It felt like so many things that lead to death—something you were strangely content and familiar with. You’d decided the moment  that you looked into a dead man’s eyes that you deserved death—that going to the Resistance, to _Leia_ , after what you’d done meant that you **deserved** death. It wasn't that it was too much to bear or to live with—it was more of the fact that you lost the meaning of right and wrong and that was the most dangerous territory you could _ever_ enter. No mission or macabre planet could top the place you were stuck on a puzzle in. 

It was only a matter of time before you’d pass out, that you knew. All signs pointed north—to the sweet release of slipping into unconsciousness. Everything was distant but oh so close. Like life itself was teasing you since you couldn't seem to get a grasp on it. What a sick bastard life was. To fucking hell with it.

You turned your head, hearing an echoing slam against the hatch—it was fading and wrapping around your brain, until the loudest part of it made your blink. Dark spots flooded your vision and you tried to blink them away as if you were swatting a pesky bug away. Grey filled your mind. Darkness pulled you down.

* * *

How he managed to take off without crashing into the opening of the hanger was beyond him. The damn helmet he was wearing cut off most of his peripheral vision it was a miracle he was even piloting! He was growing more and more agitated by the millisecond as consecutive beeps sounding through the ship—some of which were alerting him, though he didn't know what they meant.

“Fucking **WHAT?** ” Kylo screamed at no one—just the beeping that was egging on his rage and headache. He unlatched his helmet from underneath and ripped it off, throwing it to the ground of the cockpit with a metal _clang_. Now he could see what the hell he was looking at.

He wasn't good at piloting, _that_ he would admit. He didn't know what most of the buttons and switches meant, didn't know how to fix a problem. It was also _extremely_ rare that he would smoothly land somewhere—thank the stars he wouldn't be landing this time around. But, like all things he did, he tried his damnedest to get it done—and if that meant tossing around the command shuttle with a ninety foot wingspan like a goddamn frisbee, then so be it. He could ignore the few— _or many—_ scratches.

What he _couldn't_ ignore though, was the reason why he was going through the trouble of piloting his own ship—the _girl._ He really should stop calling her that, though, he had nothing else to refer to her as. Still, it felt weird in his mouth when he would minimize such a being to simply ‘the girl’. It seemed that he had no idea what he was doing with her in anything—how deplorable. He couldn't seem to wrap his brain around everything she was, like he could so easily do with anyone else, but not her—not even in the sense of figuring her out. Why did he even want to?

He mentally and physically shook his thoughts, he was in a daze—the act of letting her crash into his mind pulled a scowl out of him and plastered it on his face. She was nothing, she _had_ to be nothing. She needed to be gone. So, _why_ was he going to get her?

Because she deserves the consequences coming to her? 

 _No. Because I can’t let her out of my sight—not without at least trying to get inside that head of hers._  

He sighed and pulled at his hair in a stressed manner, this became a habit of his early on in his life—though he wasn't so sure it was a bad one. It brought back fading memories of a hand running through his hair—a hand that could do no wrong, unlike _his_. His did many wrongs. He shook this out of his mind as well. How little control he had over himself when in a state of dejection.

A small pad beeped, detecting a ship nearby from having a tracking device on it. Her ship. He straightened from his normal slouch, gloved hands working quickly as he pressed buttons he could remember and guessed with others. The ship rumbled in response and he winced, cringing at the thought of doing something disastrous—like he _always_ did. He lifted his hands away from all controls and waiting for an explosion, a rupture, a wing falling off, **anything.**  

Wait, nothing? Thank _fucking_ god. He actually could breath properly now and stop clenching his fists till they turned white.

Pulling up, he followed the ship blinking on the pad, keeping his eyes on it. Another dot for his ship came into view on the pad, telling him he was growing near. She didn't get far… and she wasn't moving? 

“What the…” He mumbled, peering up to see that her ship was directly in front of him—halted. He prepare to dock onto her ship, ready to drag her in here if he had to. Easing onto the docking area, he latched on his hatch door to hers with a tap of a button—making a loud slam emit from the back of the ship. It echoed and he could feel the vibrations from her ship reverberating through his, shaking his pilot chair and jostling his body.

He placed his helmet back over his head and kept his hands on his lightsaber as he strode to where he would enter her ship, ready for the fierce showdown she would create should she attack. Opening his hatch door with a side button and passcode, he was met with a closed door—she wasn't responding. That was… unexpected to say the least. 

He chuckled a bit at the sight of this and the situation, rather amused. It wasn't even a challenge, just ironic. If she wasn't going to do it, he would. He’d have to burn the door down—literally. 

Igniting his crackling red lightsaber, he thrusted it straight through the steel blast door and began to cut a ragged circle shape through it so he could send a final blow to it and get in. The steel melted, burning a bright orange in it’s wake. Sparks flew from the slashes of the steel as he drug his lightsaber around slowly—they singed his gloves, making him hiss out in pain for moment before continuing to use a great amount of strength to cut through the door. He yanked out the saber and kicked lightly on the door as the sides broke apart from the middle and fell down to reveal the inside of her ship—covered in steam. He found himself stunned, though, at the fact that he heard no blasts, no yelling, nothing, from the other side.

Something was off. 

Picking his legs up over the cut he had made, he walked inside looking about as he strode in to the main area of the ship. Surly she’d be taken aback by his forced entry. Surly she’d be ready to pounce on her feet once he found her. Surly she—

He smelled it. And what a pungent smell it was. His brain picked through memories of smells and tugged out one answer—poisonous gas. Alert filled his system, though he didn't know why, and he began to pick up his pace confused as to where she would be and if she fled the ship knowing there was a gas leak. 

No, it would seem that she hadn’t. In front of him, she laid sprawled out on the floor—comm in hand and unconscious. He took a moment to look around her, he found that the underfloor had been revealed and tools were scattered across the floor. She had attempted to fix it, that much was obvious. Then, he turned his attention to her and became transfixed on her—even in deep sleep. The block felt clearer, refined, but still closed to him. Sweat and dried blood glistened on her skin. So, she had killed him the way he thought she did—upon her departure above him he had inspected the officer’s sliced neck, not believing it. _Still_ didn’t, yet the evidence has now been revealed to him twice. She was an enemy, even more so now. Taking her back with this mark on her would only stir things up—he was willing to take that risk. 

Stepping forward from his frozen state, the black and white droid sped up to him, beeping obscenities. He once again stood froze, leg in mid walk, staring at the furious wobbling droid below him with a quirked eyebrow, though they couldn't see it. _Curious this thing is,_ he thought.

“Move, **ball.** ” He murmured. 

He stepped over it, ignoring the droid to move to inspect her. A shock at his ankle, though, prevented him from doing so and he let out a miffed yell whilst flinching away from the brazen droid, “Shit, droid! What did I do?”

_Breathe._

Ah. He’s heard that once before, only it came out of both his and Hux’s mouth. He sighed and rubbed the back of his neck feeling extremely befuddled. Here he was standing in between a droid he’d have to convince to let him take— _save_ —her and it’s owner, whom it appeared to be quite vigilant over. It’s been a while since he’s chatted with a droid, perhaps too long. 

Never underestimate a droid...

He glowered at the droid and ignored the clear voice inside of his head that compelled him so greatly. Squatting down to her sprawled out figure, he inspected her as if she were a rare creature with a tilted head. It wasn't as painful for his mind as he expected, he almost felt limitless coming near her. Like there were a million possibilities by just gazing upon her—all shut down by that _damned_ empty mind. The light given off from viewport looking out into endless stars was the only thing that illuminated her face, adding shadows to the curves of her neck and eye sockets. He scanned her blood smeared face, almost fearing the outcome if he were to reach out and touch her. Nothing would happen, but his mind spoke differently. _Peril,_ it said. _Torment,_ it shouted. Would these things happen to _him_ should he touch her? Or would they happen to _her_ if his touch was as destructive as he thought? 

He sighed and spoke under his breath, “What do I do with you…” _leave you here?_ No, she was coming with him whether she liked it or not—and it’s a goddamn blessing she didn't exactly have a _say_ in this. 

Every one of these thoughts were pushed aside as he reached out to feel her neck and the weak pulse that lay pumping underneath his gloved fingertips. A sign of great suffering of the body, he needed to act quick if he wanted her alive. Confusingly, he shoveled his hands under her deadweight body, bringing her to his chest and lifting up her limp body as he rose to his full height. He scanned the cockpit ahead through the steam, deciding to grab a rucksack that laid listless on the ground and with the force, pulled it to his palm. He’d inspect it later for weapons and belongings.  

_What do you think you’re doing?_

Another zap to the ankle as he moved to return to his ship and he sighed exasperatedly, though it only came out as a distorted rumble. He whipped around to face the droid hastily—almost knocking her head against the wall in the process.

“Does it **look** like I’m trying to kill her to you?”

The droid stayed silent in front of him but then quickly began to pace like a panicked mother. Kylo simply stared at it, waiting for an answer—that is, if he was going to get one. By the looks of it, the droid was going haywire at the sight of the irredeemable asshole who sliced their owner’s side and is now rescuing her. And in that moment, Kylo believed he and the droid were as equally puzzled at his actions. He didn't know what he was doing either.

 _…_ **_Fine_** _—but you make **one** wrong move I will electrocute you till you are nothing but crispy dry bones._

“Understood." He nodded curtly. "What is your unit name anyways?"

_BB-3. Beeree is what **she** calls me. You are not to._

And with that the droid shook their head and rolled away with an unbelievable amount of sass. Honestly, he was about 110% fed up with the situation at this point and is just rolling with the punches, even if the punches are coming from a two foot droid. 

Walking into his ship, he closed the hatch behind him with his elbow and moved inside. The droid already waiting for him inside, watching his every move silently. And if looks could kill—he’d be dead. He shifts his gaze away from the awkward staring contest and moves to set her down on the floor. Not knowing how long she was exposed to the poisonous gas, he wastes no time in going to the cockpit ahead and preparing to leave.

Settling in the pilots seat, he overthinks everything he just did for a moment before returning to the task at hand—wanting very much to tug at his hair rigidly. Swiftly gliding his hands across the control panel, he prepares the ship to go into hyperspace and detaches from the docking area on her ship. It was now only a matter of gliding away from her ship to return to the Starkiller Base to meet the ever annoying General Hux and his nagging about going behind his back—again.

A loud rumble and a sonic feeling explosion sounding from the back of his ship pushed his ship forward— _coming_ _from her ship._ It made the hair on his neck raise as he felt the vibrations coursing through him and the ship. He whipped around to check for damage but his eyes only went to _her_ and the droid hovering over her, conveying the greatest amount of care.

The sight made him realize something.

In that moment, looking at her with the block still present and seeing what he unknowingly accomplished—he decided she didn't deserve to be left on that ship to be blown to bits. No, she deserves life—such an electric word, life is. She embodied it, as did anyone who harnessed the force. The force coursing through _her_ veins and reaching out to him, though, confirmed that belief.

Yes. She is _life._   

One out of—most likely—a million things about her **finally** revealed.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> damn kylo, back at it again with the awful piloting skills and confusing actions!!!!!


	9. Connected

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kylo Ren struggles with finding his reasoning behind his actions—which involves saving your life. On the other hand, maybe saving your life wasn't the best thing for you. You see this to be true as you come back from unconsciousness and survive gas poisoning, realizing just how lost and encased you are as you find yourself once again in the grasps of the First Order. Desperate to cope with the loss of everything you are.

_Think._ As if he didn't do enough of it back there. There was absolutely no trace of a plan anywhere in his mind on what to do with her still, perhaps walking out of his ship with her in hand (really arms) would suffice. No doubt Hux would be there, impatiently tapping a pristine patent leather boot at him whilst spatting out his opinion on his actions to him. A joyous sight, truly. 

Kylo might as well say it loud and say it proud that he unknowingly rescued her. Behind Hux’s back, at that. The fact that simply going to _get her_ was important enough to the point he had to go behind someone’s back in order to do so bothered him immensely. It was so unlike him, but perhaps maybe it wasn’t. He’s always been possessive after things he deems as a project of sorts. _This_ project, though, seemed to require a shit ton of research and extra hours of studying. And maybe some brushing up on his banter skills. Was it really worth it? Was _she_?

All thoughts pushed aside, he focused on flying the command shuttle into the hangar (at a speed that wasn't exactly preferred but manageable, beggars can’t be choosers. he begged for no crashes) and landing it without a scratch. As he felt the ship somewhat smoothly touch down inside of the extensive hangar, he slumped in the pilot’s seat—relieved and still on edge from it all. He’d done way more than teetering over the edge to get a look-see at the girl and it still very much confused him. He wasn't smart when it came to these things.

He let out a long, drawn out sigh as he pulled himself away from the cockpit to retrieve the still unconscious damsel in distress on his ship floor. Well, if she was a damsel in distress then that made him her… knight in shining armor—nope. Not happening. Even she’d hate that. He let out a chuckle at the thought of her defiance in the face of him mentioning that to her. She’d surly meet her match then.

He wondered what would have transpired between them had she been conscious. He’d probably have a few dings and scratches on him before he’d use the force to slip her into unconsciousness. So, basically the same outcome—just with him a little sore from a well balanced fight on her end. Maybe a headache. No, he had one even now thanks to the endless failing attempts at entering her mind.

_I’m watching you._

Kylo jumped slightly at the beep, forgetting the droid was in close proximity to her—guarding her. He narrowed his eyes into slits and the droid rolled over to him, peering up at him as if it were mirroring his look. It looked as if they were challenging him, though he wasn't sure what the challenge was exactly. 

He paid no mind to this useless stand-off and went to the limp figure lying in the same position he had placed her in. He couldn't help the pulling together of his eyebrows and the way his chin tilted so he had look down his nose at her. He’d removed his helmet before as he loathed flying with it on—or doing anything with it on for that matter. She was such a peculiar thing to him still. She’d most likely remain that way for him 

He decided against keeping his helmet off in the face of the order and went to retrieve it from it’s place on the floor, where he had thrown it earlier in an irritated state. Then, returned to the beloved varmint on the floor. 

Scooping her up as he did in her ship just minutes ago, he moved to the exit ramp of his ship. She was so airy in his arms, yet weighty in his mind. Her body was frail and strong all at the same time and, at the moment, screamed vulnerability. It was an enormous contrast to how had previously seen her, which was alert and ready to spit venom. Never did he think he would be carrying her small form, staring intently at her oddly gentle face. Her mouth was parted slightly. Her hair, crazy in it’s natural state, sliding around freely as it draped over his arm. She looked like some stormy mirage in his arms. It made him shake his head clear as he saw that he had come to the exit of his shuttle.

Steam escaped from the tops of the exit ramp opening and a hissing noise with it as the ramp lowered for him to stalk down it. Any minute now until the general would be up his ass about the seemingly lifeless body in his arms. All for the order to see. Kylo rolled his eyes at that, feeling careless.

_And in three… two…_

“Ren, or should I call you traitor, it’s a misery to see—”

Right on time. Kylo simply ignored his stunned face and kept to himself whilst walking by him—bumping him on the shoulder as he did.

Immediately after he walked down the ramp, the droid followed suit behind him—but troopers confiscated him in an instant, taking him away to be evaluated and possibly wiped later. The droid beeped and screamed, shouting curses and threats toward a certain knight. Kylo would deal with _that_ headache later, when she awoke.

“Wha—What are you—What did you—” Hux followed Ren’s dark form with his eyes and body, mouth agape and finger pointing, “REN! GET BACK HERE.”

He couldn't help but silently chuckle, amused and bemused all at once. “General, I’d advise you to simply let me do my worst, if you will, as I’ve already gotten this far.”

“This is **not** your worst, I don’t even want to _think_ about what your worst is at the moment with this—this…” _thing in your arms._ Hardly human. Not a machine, though. A crazed vile beast, the girl was. The idea of her still seemed to tap him on the shoulder though, getting his attention to alert him—of what he did not know. 

“Girl.” Kylo paraphrased. Why would Hux call her a ‘thing’? It sparked a vindicating side to him, oddly. She was nothing of the sort.

“Girl,” He parroted back, scoffing. “She’s a sorry excuse for a threat, that’s all.” That was a lie.

Kylo snorted. “And you are?”

“A much better help to you than she is, clearly,” Another lie. “She’s nothing, Ren. And you’re changing the subject." 

He scurried alongside Ren, following his lead. He could scoff again at it all, at him following Ren’s lead. It pricked him. Even the act of following him down a hall blistered him and he jogged forward, taking the lead. Feeling much more validated, he awaited the knights revelation of his true intentions with her girl, nudging the face that he had deliberately disobeyed him aside. But what’s new?

“Her lungs are weak as is her pulse. I’m bringing her to the medbay for treatment before she can be immured. I hope to find those plasma bars I asked for in a room.”

Hux breathed in, “You will. I com’d the officers here before leaving to wait for you upon hearing of your departure, which is now not pertaining to my interest, from a certain easy trooper.” 

These troopers were good for nothing, once again. Shouldn't they be fearing him more? Why were they fessing up to this weasel of a general?

“If what I am doing does not interest you, why are you following me around like a lost child?” He gave him a judgmental once-over from behind his mask. He had to hold in a burst of laughter begging to be freed at the sight of his clipped overcoat. It was so… like Hux. Posh. Uptight.

“I’m not following, I’m ahead,” It was the same thing to Kylo, he was going where he was going. No distinction. “And I’d like to speak to the caretakers here, give them the low-down. Maybe request a… certain doctor from base to be assigned to her.”

Kylo pressed into his mind for a moment out of pure curiosity as to who he could be referring to. Hux growled under his breath at the intrusion he could feel from underneath his eye sockets. 

Did he _have_ to be such a nosey nuisance?

 _Yes, yes I do,_ Kylo replied to his internal question. 

 _Out,_ came the reply to the snarky unneeded response. 

“Dr. Lyra Oilel?” Kylo knew the doctor and her had become… acquittances. He didn't really know how that worked, though. Didn't see a reason for her to be assigned either. “Why is it necessary for her to be transferred _here?”_

Hux cleared his throat and scratched at the back of his neck, nervous at the abrupt question he wasn't ready for. “Because it just _is_ , Ren.”

Kylo rolled his eyes and picked up his pace as he reached a hallway with more occupants in it, ready to threaten them to not say a word of what they're currently seeing. It wasn't that he was ashamed, but if he could keep word from getting out that he did this that would be ideal. She didn't need to know.

Briskly walking directly to the medbay, he rounded the corner leading to the wide open doors of it—meeting puzzled doctors and nurses alike. He growled, annoyed by the scene before him. They just stood there, frozen. Had he frozen them? It sure seemed like it. Really people, is it that hard to do leap into action? He couldn't have been _that_ distracting.

“Come on, people, move!” He hissed out, walking into the prepared room with plasma bars surrounding the glass wall in front of the room. Hux pressed a button to extinguish the glowing bars and Ren strode inside, shrugging her out of his arms to place her atop a hospital bed. Finally, after standing there like gaping fish, people flooded in after them. 

They asked what had happened, why he was the one bring her in. He explained it all—her cause of injury, where he could feel there was the most damage, how her breathing was beginning to become shallow. Even while working on her, they were still interested in him. Sending him inquisitive looks and transfixed stares. It was now his turn to be the fish, as he felt like one behind a glass with people tapping it to aggravate him. 

“And you will tell **no one** , not even _her_ , of this.” He warned, looming over each doctor in the room with his tremendous height and booming distorted voice. “As far as you know, a trooper was sent to retrieve her. The rest is history.”

It was a command. No questions asked when it came to Kylo Ren. He watched as their faces shown with the slightest twitch of fear. _Good._  

With that, he left—not without sending a lingering look, though, to the girl with ivs in her veins now and a breathing mask that screamed fragility on her face. Hux had taken notice of it, a quick scan of his mind revealed thoughts filled to the brim with skepticism but there was no time to fool with that.

He needed to meditate on what to do with this girl. That is, if he could conjure up enough focus to even breath like normal. His heart had been pounding for the whole galaxy to hear for the entirety of the time she was pressed against his chest, light and soft in his arms. Everything about him had become erratic, unstrung. Completely altered, he was, in every sense. So, figuring out where her future lies was the only thing he could do fix his predicament and he headed to the sanctuary that was his private quarters with clenched fists.

* * *

Struggle. That was the only word floating in your mind. It was a struggle to breathe. A struggle to move. To call to mind your fleeting memories. To feel. 

You strained to produce a scream as you felt the resistance of something grasping your wrists and you yanked your arms violently up and down, attempting to free yourself. It was deemed impossible to look down at your arms, but you knew you were back in a hospital. Bright white lights and the familiar sterile aroma told you that, along with the blatant feeling of lying in a bed flat on your back. 

It felt like everything came crashing down on you in an instant—the last memories, the pain in your lungs, the aching of your bones and my _God_ … a pounding headache! You could feel it behind your eyes pounding away and probably threatening to pop a vein. Squeezing your eyes shut, hot tears came streaming down you cheeks and pooled at your neck. It felt disgusting and humiliating and vulnerable and everything you never wanted too feel in a single moment. 

You turned your head and tried to bury it in the pillow beneath your head as best as you could, letting the tears soak it rather than your burning skin. You could feel the heat from your fever radiating off of your skin, it made you feel claustrophobic almost, like you couldn't breathe in any cool air and you were trapped in heat. Although, it was hard to decipher if the fever was coming from your state of health or your awakening rage from the realization that you were most likely back where you escaped from. 

Whoever brought you here would _pay_.

You could not help yourself when a scream emitted from your throat, burning and scratching it in its strength. The pillow muffled your screams but they echoed so loud in your head, adding to the pounding effect. The tears came down harder and hotter and you found yourself, again, violently trying to pull your arms away from straps around your wrists that pinned you to the bed. They were treating you like you were insane, like you were a caged animal, and the sheer thought of it only made you scream louder. 

Gods and stars, was anyone _listening?_ Were you nonexistent?

Beeps of a passcode being entered and the _swoosh_ of a door being opening confirmed that you were in fact not nonexistent and you indeed were causing someone to take notice. Your screams had subsided till you were left shivering and sniffing into the pillow, not being able to bring yourself to look at the person who had entered the room. Their footsteps grew louder and with each step you recoiled. You were not afraid. You were simply too immersed in the many emotions and thoughts a being could experience that it would take everything in you to look upon yet another unfamiliar face—to refrain from biting their jugular out or perhaps something more efficient than that. 

Cold hands grasped your stiff wrists and all at once the restriction upon them was gone—freed. You kept your eyes closed but felt your face soften for a moment before it scrunched up in a scowl. The words that ached to come out of your mouth made your tongue taste of venom, sour and cold.

“Where am I?” It was a dumb question—came out as a demand, though. You had already acquired the answer. 

“You are on board the Finalizer in the medbay. You came in in critical condition, gas poisoning I was told. I’m sorry about the wrist restraints, I told them they weren't necessary considering they put plasma bars outside your room.” 

Your head snapped to the direction of the voice as you recognized it as... 

“ _Lyra?”_ You peeped, eyes now wide open staring at a warm face with compassionate eyes behind glaring black framed glasses. The familiar red-head beamed at you as you sat up, rubbing your wrists a bit. The act brought back a memory for a second—one of your first encounter with Leia, but as soon as the image entered your mind, it left. Your mind was now drawn to getting answers.

“The general requested I be here when you came back to us. Looks like I’m your doctor for good now.” She chuckled a bit, settling down on the edge of your bed. 

You nodded, staring at the wrinkles in the white sheets as she sat down. This information sparked curiosity in your mind like a match failing. Why would the general see to your comfort? You’d admit that having her here did offer you _some_ solace (if not a lot), but why would he cater to that? The only logic you could conjure up was persuasion, to do what you weren't sure, but a steady flame came alive in your mind the second you thought of it. You wrapped around it, huddling it to seek its warmth—its meaning. He must be persuading you to agree to something, you wouldn't have been brought back here without a reason. A general is smarter than that, more cunning. He was going to attempt to sway your decision. Emphasis on _attempt_.

“Who brought me here? Who went after me?” Might as well get to the bottom of it now, you needed to shed some light on this very dimly lit situation. Your flame only offered so much. 

You studied her face as she prepared to answer, the way her mouth twitched slightly and eyes blinked rapidly made you suspicious. The way that the a cup of water on the bedside table was suddenly too close to the edge and she moved it to the center. It was an act of avoidance—a mental pause. A lie was behind these mannerisms.

“A trooper. Sent out right after your escape.”

You cast a dagger. “You’re lying.” 

You knew the signs of a deceptive person, it was all a part of your training and experience. Programmed inside of you now. 

Her eyes shifted to the left and she swallowed prior to answering to your accusation, another significant sign. “No, that is what I was told. Look, I’m not even supposed to be here. Unfortunately, you won’t be seeing me for a while.” 

As she spoke, she stood up and walked around the room, seemingly occupying herself to avoid the confrontation. 

You sigh slowly and lick your lips, contemplating an unusual thought that popped into your mind of who it could be. There was only one person that had curiosity radiating off of them, scorching your skin, when in your presence. They felt like a leach that cough not find the blood that was pumping through your veins. They _also_ were the last thing you saw before taking off in the dark snowy forest. They almost felt like a vision, like they weren't truly there in the flesh. But somehow, you now came to discern that they were in fact there and they willingly came after you after their first attempt in doing so failed. And that person was Kylo Ren. He brought you here—saved you by doing so. 

Ah, but it was for his own benefit you could bet. You were nothing but a pawn to him.

Still, you _could_ have fun with this.

“Okay,” You said, a smirk twisting like vines on your face, “So, Kylo Ren wouldn't mind answering to me then. Right?”

“I… don’t know. Really. I’d have to ask.” Her voice raised as she spoke and she backed away a bit.

“You do that.”

Get a load of that. You had him wrapped around your finger with this information, and he didn't even know it.

* * *

She never did ask. In fact, like she had mentioned, she never came back. No one did. You’ve watched the clock on the wall hit the same spot at least a thousand times. Broken. Twitching in its faulty logic.

Beeree hadn't even been mentioned to you by her. You didn't even know if he made it off your death ridden ship and the thought made your bones quiver in fear. There were too many things anonymous to you that it sent you over the brink a few times in the last… however many days had gone by. 

How does one count days when theres nothing and no one to go off of? All there was to look at was space through a 2 foot long viewport. Twinkling stars and ghostly nebulae drifting by as the ship coasted through space and time. Nothing more. Nothing less, prominently. 

What was supposed to be a medical room became a confinement in the most isolating of ways. At least, that’s how it felt. Apparently, no great deal of long-term damage had been done from the poisonous gas leak and so, no further treatment was needed. Minor breathing problems and a slight burning in the throat, maybe some migraines, were expected upon coming back into consciousness. They were also expected to subside within the day. Still, you could feel the tire in your lungs and how the back of your throat itched. Every so often you’d let out a weak cough, a pathetic way to pass time almost. 

It’s been hours since you last coughed. Maybe longer, you really could not tell. Perhaps it’s been about 3 days since Lyra showed up shortly after your fit of being startled awake by the intake of the change in scenery. You’ve taken naps for, what you assumed to be, a long amount of time. When you woke up, food and water would be there—stale tasting just like the taste of your own thoughts that filled the void. They’d begun to leave a bitter taste in your mouth, like most bothersome things did, and it seemed odd to taste thoughts but you’ve learned yours are an acquired taste—and acquire it you did _not._  

No, in fact your tongue was so bitter you seemed to be choking on it in this very moment. Although, the reason you were currently on the brink of hyperventilating was most likely due to the fact that you hadn't had human contact in… not even the stars knew how long. Surly the ones outside that miniature viewport didn't know how long your body has craved something as simple as eye contact. Maybe the ones the ship passed by on the first day. 

No one passed by your room, no voices were heard—and there was those damn plasma bars. It was a restriction, a powerful force since they managed to keep you in. They felt like static electricity trying to eat your flesh every time you came near, you couldn't even get within a three foot distance without them making you return to sit on your bed. 

Your mind was racing for a finish line that only existed in the touch of another person, a glance, a sentence spoke. The trophy to be won was the feeling of acknowledgement. How precious that was. And how odd it was that you were claiming something to be precious, something you never thought you would label anything as.  

You couldn't breathe. You had tried to bend in half till you could but that didn't work. Where was everyone? Did they know you were still here? Could they see you but you couldn't see them? Was that a ridiculous question? Because right now, it felt like a crucial thing to ask.

Your knees clanked together like silver spoons, rattling with each step you took in an attempt to pace to calm yourself. Fingernails absentmindedly scratched at unkept cuticles, clawing at the thin layer of skin in an attempt to brace yourself for the mighty fall that was looming over you—nothing prepared to catch you when you did. It was truly  coming to you that you didn't know when you’d ever get out of here or hear word from anyone—or if you were ever going to. 

You needed to feel that this was real. Nothing felt real anymore. Briskly walking to a white wall, you slammed your palm against it and listened for the stinging of the skin. It never came. Again, you slammed your palm—harder this time. You repeated this over and over until your eyes stung. Finally, a knee-jerk reaction to a consecutive movement that placed you in the ‘slowly losing your mind’ category. At least numbness did not follow through on its plan to foil you. You could only stare at your reddened, warm hand from the slamming and wonder why this did not wake you up from this terrible dream—correction, nightmare. Because that’s what this was right? You fell asleep on your ship, you didn't pass out. You’d wake up shortly and you’d be ready to jump into hyperspace—soon to be smelling the wet grass and grainy dirt of D’Qar.  

A bitter chuckle escaped your lips as you contemplated the daydream. That’s all it was. You were here and this was now. And you loathed it.  

The chuckle turned into a sob quickly and you were so _weak_ and prone to this that you didn't even feel the impulse to mask your emotions. Although, masking wasn't really what you did. It was more that you had a hard time being in tune with emotions, didn't express yourself, but now that layer to you was gone and it brought you to your knees. You couldn't stop the gasping sobs and your arms shook with the attempts your body was making to burrow itself. A ringing filled your ears so it muffled your cries, adding a new song you honestly didn't want to know the words to. 

It all seemed like slow motion for a moment as you glanced to the glass wall and looked through the plasma bars to the outside world. Things caught up to normal speed, though, when the sound of hands slamming against the glass door and a person came into view. 

_Lyra._

You wanted to reach out to her and talk to her like normal. But you did none of those things. Hands covered your ears as you laid on the floor staring at her like a complete idiot. Your mind couldn't register that this moment was real—that she was real. On her end though, she was most definitely real and you were most definitely about to hyperventilate. She was yelling at you as doctors yelled at her to keep away from you but she was not a person to ignore a patient that needed her. You were more than a patient though, even in the short amount of time that she has spent with you, something told her that you were not a passerby. Something gave you meaning.

“I need you to listen to me!” She screeched, watching as no sign of response came from you as you simply stared at her with a look somewhere between bewilderment and curiosity. She crouched down to your level on the ground, not minding the people shouting at her from the back. Oh how she wanted to get in there and pick you up, give you something to hold onto. She couldn't go that far though—not till she could figure out the plans to keep you safe and mobile around here. Something she’d been working on getting approved for days. She’d only just now been able to come back to you and she can now see that she had been right. You needed human contact just as anyone did. This was not right.

She placed her hand on the glass, fingers stretched out with a slight curl to them from impulse to grasp you. “Put your hand on my hand.” She commanded, staring at you firmly. Waiting for you to meet her attempt at eye contact.

You could hear her words and decipher them. But again, they didn't seem real. She didn't seem real. You gaze was on her hands which were close to her face from your view but you just could not meet her eyes. Couldn't reach up and do as she told for it felt like a consequence would be awaiting you with impatience because my God you have skimped out on meeting your match for so long. Still, you shook it aside, waking up. Your eyes met hers and it sucked you right back into reality. Which was warm and offering you what you needed—not just wanted. 

Suddenly, everything is real. She is real and she is reaching out to you, figuratively and literally. Pulling your body up, you reach an arm up and place your hand on the glass with hers on the other side—as if it were a mirror image, except it wasn't and this was something you could feel. You didn't know how, but the pain from the plasma bars had subsided as if you had overcome them. As you looked at her and felt a smile pull at your lips, you could _feel_ her and feel the way she was so… alive? Yes, you could feel her living. Thriving. As were you. It was a team effort and it filled you up, raising you to stand she did as well. You both shared a look of true acknowledgement of each other for the first time.

Connected.

You could finally breathe. You _had_ woken up from that terrible nightmare and was greeted by something much better than any daydream—and that was friendship.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want you to imagine what it would be like to not talk to, look at, or see a person for like 3 days. That is what happened here. 
> 
> kinda short chapter idk. i didn't plan on posting this, but hey it was just sitting there finished so fuck it. here you go. things get reaaaaaaaaal interesting as things go back to normal in our poor reader's mind and her future is decided in the hands of the FO. what a sad chapter this was tho for her. man. thank god for lyra ;)
> 
> Remember to leave kudos if you liked and send me feedback, I'd love to know what you think and what I can improve on.


	10. The Marvelous Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The grip the First Order has on you has loosened a bit, much to your surprise, as you are allowed free roam around the Medbay on the Finalizer. It has come to your attention, though, that coming out of your medical room isn't as it's all cracked up to be. A couple unlikely visitors grace you with their presence as you attempt to enjoy a stroll under careful watch of your assigned trooper, DS-1698.

“Breathe in for me.”

You roll your eyes but oblige, slightly cringing away from the obnoxiously cold metal of the stethoscope being pressed to your feverish skin. 

“And breathe out.”

Letting out a slow breath through your mouth, you look up to Lyra as she makes an odd thinking face. It made you question her authority a bit when she did these faces but then again, you were not one to talk—you were no doctor.  

She moves the stethoscope from your back to your chest, listening in on your heartbeat. Again, that scrunched up face still present as she processed the rhythm of your heart. 

“Is this really necessary? This is the forth time you—” 

“Shh!”  

Her eyes did this flickering thing as she listened once more before taking the stethoscope out of her ears and wrapped it around her neck to hang. She took a seat on a wheeled low stool and proceeded to jot down a few notes like she had been for the entire day. Honestly, it was a bit flattering being an experiment for the day. Although, she didn't really like when you called yourself that. She had corrected you and explained her reasoning behind this (for about fifteen minutes) time and time before. Still, if you wanted to feel like an alien being poked and prodded at then you were going to, dammit. Even if you weren't an experiment, though, it still felt interesting to be evaluated so closely like this. 

“Alright, that rattling in your lungs is gone,” She added a quiet thank to the stars before continuing on, “But, your blood pressure is still high. Aaand that irregular heartbeat is bugging me. You get to stay with me for another week or so.”

Well, more time to be an alien species under a microscope. 

Swinging your legs back on top of the hospital bed after letting them dangle, you settled yourself in there with a soft plop in the white sheets. Your body still felt exhausted from all of the anxiety you had pent up from the other day—and what a shit show that was.

“I do have some good news,” You popped your head up at this. Finally, something worth listening to. She adjusted her glasses as she met your inquisitive gaze, “I’ve been talking to the general and he has granted you permission to have free range on the medbay floor. He also said something about speaking with you soon? I’m guessing to talk about why he allowed this because he wouldn’t tell me, which is weird, but I guess he’d rather tell you in person. It must be important, he—”

“Lyra,” You peeped, trying to get her attention. She kept going on in her never-ending fall into rambling sentences, though, not hearing you. You groaned. “LYRA!”

She paused. Then, a sheepish smile grew on her face and she shrugged. “Sorry. Anyways, yeah you can walk around as you please,” She nodded to herself, staring into space a bit, “Oh! But only if all doors leading out are sealed and if you’re accompanied by a trooper.” 

“It’s better than nothing. Thank you.” You smiled to yourself. Then, “Any word on my droid? Beeree?”

“Ah, I don’t know. He never mentioned it and I didn't think to.”

Well, _shit._ This either meant they didn't make it off your ship (which apparently exploded, you always knew that hunk of metal was a piece of shit) or they were somewhere waiting for you to save them so they could sass someone’s ass. Same, Beeree. Same. You decided to hope for the latter as thinking of the former really just made you want to go somewhere and die—and you weren't sure you could fit that in your busy schedule of being an experiment for another week. Dying would have to be put on a waiting list.

“That’s alright. I’ll figure it out… somehow. I always do.” 

“That’s the spirit.” She stood up, placing your charts in a folder and going to a small control panel that ignited the plasma bars. You frowned at the bright blue light that now illuminated the already bright room. It was too much.  

“So, does that mean I can go for a walk _right now?”_

She smiles and nods her curly head, “I’ll request a trooper and that the doors be sealed right away.”

Straightening her white coat a bit, she waltzed out—avoiding the plasma bars like they were nothing. For you though, they brought a strange sensation the second they were turned on. One that gave your skin a tingling itch. One that restricted you. 

Acting on getting out of the room before the bars can even begin to affect you in such a way, you reached for your black boots under the bed. It would be nice to not be barefoot for one. It was a stark contrast now though, when you wore your boots, as you had been given a white medical jumpsuit with a tie around your waist. It made you feel like part of the room, like you were blending in with the walls. An uncomfortable camouflage. 

Seeing that your boots were secure on your feet, you headed for the refresher in the medical room. Hopefully your reflection wouldn't cause your blood pressure to spike even higher and bring Lyra running to your aid as you stroke out from the sight of some gnarly dark circles. To your astonishment, none of this would happen as your appearance wasn't too horrendous. Sure, you looked a little pale and flushed. Maybe a bit droopy. Chapped lips. Nothing some good lip salve and water couldn't fix, though. You liked your droopy face. It said, ‘I’m fucking exhausted’ so you didn't have to.  

Your hair, though, was another story. It was _unacceptable_ and you drug your fingers through the insane nest that it had become, wincing as you did so. You’d always been tender-headed (a true curse to a girl that enjoyed hairstyling) and this took it to a whole new level. God, you needed a shower. Perhaps tonight, you’d taken one about three days ago. You didn't wish to become rotten—droopy was already taking over and it didn't need a companion by it’s side.

The clear door to your room opened and the bars extinguished as Lyra stepped back in, now accompanied by a trooper that looked like they wanted to be anywhere but here. You couldn't blame them. A nice vacation spot by the water sounded much more appealing than here… or anywhere for that matter. 

“This is DS-1698, he’s been assigned to guard you as you roam free among the floor.” 

You walked through the doorway of the refresher that had been kept open to stand in front of him. What do you do? Wave? Shake his hand? Tell him your deepest, darkest secrets? Let _him_ tell _you_ his deepest, darkest secrets? Many possibilities here.

“Okay.” You said dumbly. Clearly, you weren't up for any of the possibilities shown to your mind.

He nodded stiffly. Every trooper seemed to do this. It was like their neck was slightly immobile. Honestly, you wouldn't be surprised if it was. Those helmets looked killer.

“Let’s go, intruder.” 

You quirked an eyebrow at this honorable mention. Wow, he really knows how to treat a _lady._

“Again with the intruder nickname. Why don’t you guys just call me bitch instead? It’d be more accurate.” You quipped. 

He remained silent and if you once thought these guys could take a joke, you didn't anymore. He simply tugged you along till you were out of the room for the first time in four days. It wasn't exactly life altering, emerging from the isolation of your room, but it was enough to settle your anxiety.

“I’ll check on you later!” Lyra called out as she headed for the exit. 

And then there were two, save for your favorite thorn in your side down the hall across from you. 

“Ah, General Hux. Lyra said I’d be _harassed_ by you later,” You stated smugly, not quite sure what you were so smug about. You _were_ in the grasp of a trooper after all. Nothing to be smug about. "I guess it's later?"

You swore you caught a glimpse of a smile, not a smirk, as he looked at you alive and well. It ought to have made him twist his face in a sour grimace, seeing you still biting back and full of charisma, but those thoughts of hatefulness had been tossed aside. Now he only strived to get what he wanted as he now knew you were no longer on your death bed and you’d surly make it interesting getting him there with your snide remarks.

“Let’s talk business, shall we?” He glanced to the trooper and squinted, “ _Alone._ ” He added.

The trooper slid into attention at a parade rest, snapping their heels and saluting the posh general. Then, proceeded to round a corner, turning on their heels. The sound of heavy boots echoing through the halls brought your attention to be focused on the, admittedly, aggressive general.

You leaned on a hip as you folded your arms in an impatient matter. It wasn't that you had somewhere to be, the man held your future in his hands, you just wanted to irk him. 

And mission accomplished. Whatever smile had taken over his face at the sight of you was gone and was now replaced with its normal frown, except it was a little more distraught. Perhaps due to you, which made you slightly proud, but then again he looked paler than normal—a sickly pale. His eyes looked slightly sunken in as if he either hasn't been sleeping or he hasn't been eating. The two of you looked about the same, really, you looked no better with your dark circles and bruises speckled about the visible parts of your skin.

He walked toward you, extending an arm for you to take.

Now _this_ is how you treat a lady. Even if he did come off a bit bitchy. You took it, eyeing him warningly despite the obvious authority he held over you. 

“Let’s.” You agreed, winking at him. His lip snarled at that gesture. _Touchy._  

The two of you waltzed down the hallway, linked at the arm, passing by viewports and bustling workers. Some doctors, some not. They all stared. It was an odd thing to do considering both of you were dead set on destroying one another just weeks ago during your first encounter with each other. Some of those feelings of destruction still lingered, not to leave anytime soon, but a new feeling had arose and wanted to claim its spot at the top. You had what he wanted… and he couldn't get it.  

“This may or may not pertain to your interests but I’ll have you know, no decision on your future has been decided. It would be so _easy_ to send you to Phasma, though.” He mumbled the last part. Your ears still perked up at the mention, though.

Your grip tightened on his arm, digging your nails into his skin slightly. This made him look at you, meeting your cold gaze. 

“And if I decline?”

“Your demise will soon follow after.”

At least he’s upfront. Something you two seemed to have in common other than a ghastly appearance. 

Now taking you roughly by the arm, he led you to a more private sector of the hallway, hidden behind a column. You ripped your arm away from him but he simply grabbed your wrist just as roughly, seemingly trying to get your attention. Like a mother scolding a child who was still coloring on the walls. “But _some people_ think adding you is a ludicrous idea. It’s not. Anyways, I suspect you wouldn't particularly enjoy being shackled down by the First Order. Correct?”

You titled your chin up, glaring up at him with eyes like shards of ice. You just now noticed he was a good bit taller than you, as was everyone it seemed. 

Raising an eyebrow a this, you tilted your head. “Go on?”

“I would hope that if you had as much sense as I _think_ you do _…_ that if I found a way to keep you from that, you’d accept. Should I explain?” He brought his face closer to yours, challenging you. You accepted both the challenge and his approach. Still, you’d toy with him first.

“A credit for _your_ thoughts seems a little pricey.” 

It was now his turn to raise an eyebrow, unamused. Maybe amused, it was hard to tell. Then, moved out of the private sector. Ugh, he really _was_ touchy. You sigh exasperatedly, clearly stating your agreement to shut your big mouth up. 

“Alright alright, jeez.” You tugged at his sleeve, pulling him back and stepped into his tight personal bubble. You _so_  longed to pop it. Not yet.  

“Yes.” 

A twisted smirk graced his pale, freckled face at your agreement, not even knowing what it was that you were agreeing to. He stepped away from you, still keeping his cold green eyed gaze locked onto yours. 

“Very well.” With that, he grabbed at your arm again to bring you back down the hallway and return you to the trooper. 

“Wait, aren't you going to threaten me into accepting your offer? I was so looking forward to it.” You let out a bitter chuckle as you watched his face twitch in annoyance.  Did this guy _ever_ express anything? 

“I’ll let _someone else_ do the dirty work.”

He shoved you forward slightly, making you snarl a bit. Being manhandled was never a favorite of yours. You turned your head, eyeing him out of the corner of your eye. He simply shook his head and turned on his heel to walk away, boots clicking with each step. 

You scoff, still watching him. What a piece of work.  

“Finish your walk.”

With a roll of your eyes, you return your gaze back to the opposite end of the hallway where your _lovely_ escort stood. 

“I’m surprised you didn't refer to me as ‘intruder’ that time. I already miss it.” You brushed past the trooper, walking ahead of him to look for a viewport.

“I thought you preferred ‘bitch’?” 

Woah-ho-ho. Did you just crack open a trooper?

You stop, turn to him on your heel and gave an impressed nod.

“Point taken.”

* * *

“You know, I’m glad this is the only thing you can do on this hell hole. I like space. Scratch that— _love_ space.”

Over an hour had passed since you’ve come out of you room and gone for a walk, after your small dispute with General Hux, and now you had placed yourself in front of a much bigger viewport than the one in your room. You could stare at the passing stars and nebulae for eons, really.

It seems that you’ve talked DS… whatever’s head off. Honestly, you were getting tired of attempting (and failing) to say his name. Apparently combining the numbers to shorten it was frowned upon. An odd thing to be so strict about. The more you thought about how strict a troopers life was, the more it made your mind feel heavier. You wondered if they had joined out of recruitment or maybe it was simply wanting to join. The thought of them maybe being child soldiers crossed your mind and it made you shudder, that was something you were grateful to have been protected from. Still, no matter what brought him here, he didn't feel human to you. He felt like a droid, like Beeree, but still surprisingly less human than them. You wanted to change that. 

“Can I call you something else?” You scooted around to face him from your spot on the floor, leaning up against the glass behind you. What could you call him? Let’s see… DS. _Vowels, think of your vowels,_ you thought.

Das? No. Sounds like a nerf herder. Dis? No. Gross. Des?

“DES. I’m calling you Des from now on.” You stated proudly. 

No reply, per usual. He normally would give one of those broken neck nods but right now, nothing. Tough crowd.

You frowned, disappointed slightly, and turned back around to stare back at the view of the vast vacuum that is space. Looking at it right in front of you had dug up memories you’ve been pondering on for the last hour. How, in your youth, you used to climb out of your window when your parents were fast asleep and perch yourself atop the roof, gazing at constellations and shooting stars. Wishing on a star that you could be one. Some memories, though, weren't as good. Sometimes the stars up above were the only good outlook you had on life. They were the last thing you would see before you’d fall asleep, so bright due to the fact that you slept in the middle of a desert at times, and for just a moment the galaxy wasn't as awful as you knew it to be. And that’s how it felt right now.

You were not happy with the situation you’ve been given, you'd admit to that, but all one can do is deal with it. And if that meant becoming something here, then so be it. Whatever it takes to stay alive because living wasn't an option here, you could never. You were tired of running, tired of escaping and so far it proved to be useless. You had the stitches to prove it. Besides, everyone back at the Resistance probably thought you were dead by now. Maybe keeping it that way was for the better. God you missed Poe right now, it was abrupt, but at the moment that was the only sentient in the entire galaxy you wanted to speak with. What if you forgot his voice from being here so long? It's only been a couple weeks, which was already too long, but it felt longer. 

“It’s a marvelous night, isn't it?" 

The new voice made you jump and you recognized it immediately. The rumbling distortion gave it away. Your _other_ favorite thorn in your side, though this one seemed to stay put. You’d already yanked out the less abrasive one.

“Not anymore.” 

With a sigh, he took that in stride. It was evident to Kylo that you weren't ever going to back down in your one-sided fight with him. He had no interest in throwing punches, too much effort. He’s already put in way more than he originally intended to by saving your life— _twice._

“I’d thank you for saving my life back there, but your still an asshole so…”

His face was shocked behind his mask, completely puzzled. How had you figured it out? If that jackass of a general outed him, he’s dead. He’s in the ground. No, he's cinder and smoke—like Kylo had promised he would be. And he never breaks a promise. His fingers twitched and curled, forming a white-knuckled fist. You weren't supposed to know this.

“How did you know it was me?” He growled.

“I didn’t. Until now, that is. Thanks for confirming my suspicions.” 

 _Shit._ He fell into that one. This block fucked him up in every way, he couldn't see what was coming ahead of time in anything that you did. It made him obsessed with the idea of getting into your mind. Your thoughts were an ocean of secrets that he wanted to baptize himself in. Your mind, though, was as hollow as a pin-pricked egg.

He worked his jaw, annoyed. Not even mad, just irked at everything you projected. You felt the exact same, clearly.

“So, why not thank me? You said yourself I saved you life.”

God, he was aggravating. He could say one syllable and you’d already be wanting to shut him up with a kiss with a fist.

You turned to him finally and stood, raising at eyebrow at the discovery that he was sitting against the wall across from the viewport—across from you. His legs were stretched out in front of him and hands were clasped together in his lap. What an arse.

He took a moment to look at you, his eyes drawn to the bruises that covered your chest and cheeks from the apparent rough beating you'd taken in your attempted escape. You looked... dark. Maybe it was the fact that you were dark to him mentally already, but there was something else that made him think this. Something about your presence, he could still feel the force thriving in you, but it felt like sputtering sparks. It made him curious per usual and somewhat emotionally linked. Could you also feel his sputtering sparks? If he had any left, that is. Even with this darkness to you, this loss inside of you, you still burned a bit too bright. It was like you were backlit and the steep curvatures of your mind wanted to catch the light, even if it was just for a moment.

“Maybe I _wanted_ to die?” That was a lie, not a big one. A little white lie wouldn't hurt here.

He crossed his legs and then his arms across his chest, tilting his head slightly at you. “I can arrange that, if you still feel that way.”

You gave him a weird look and shook your head, suddenly wanting to leave. This banter made you uncomfortable—mostly because you liked it. He was different than most when it came to you picking on him. And it bothered you. _Everything_ about him bothered you. His dumb head-to-toe in black outfit (though you often dressed the same way). His—actually terrifying—helmet with his sometimes hard to understand voice modulator. His face was probably the cherry on top, you'd bet. You could go on. Why was he like this?

“What brought you here, anyways?”

“I heard you were allowed free roam by General Hux. An idiotic move on his part, he’s a shithead. So, I decided we should talk.”

“Oh, we should? About what?”

He turned his head from looking up at you to the viewport and shrugged his broad shoulders.

“The _marvelous_ _night_.”

Your face went deadpan and your eyes couldn't have rolled farther back into your head than they did. 

“What?” He asked, sounding genuinely confused by your display of frustration.

“Last I checked it was early afternoon. It’s not nighttime and I’m leaving.”

You stormed out of the open room the grand viewport was located in with brewing anger. This was unbelievable, why was he so casual with you at the moment? No doubt it would change and the hostility would be back full fledge but right now this was more than you could bear. You enjoyed this too much. You needed out. You searched for Des. Surly he was right outside by the doorway, waiting for Kylo Ren to be finished with you. Well, _he_ wasn’t, but _you_ were.

“Fuck!” You hissed under your breath. An empty hallway. Not a single Des.

“Looks like you're stuck with me, _intruder._ ”

This time, you attempted to roll your eyes as far as they could possibly go as you slowly turned to face him. The cocky arse was leading against the doorway, shaking his head at you. A fleeting thought of escaping crossed your mind. It would be so easy, right now. His guard was down, which was odd. Even Kylo didn't know why he was being like this with you, he could easily be hostile to you like he was with others. But this banter was much more entertaining. Behind his helmet, he had a shit eating grin plastered on his face from seeing you squirm. You had failed to make him squirm with your indubitable ribbing, but he had not.

“A fate worse than death.” You spat.

He grabbed your wrist, not in a rough manner though, and made quick work to return you back to the medbay and into your room. It was a very silent walk, neither of you wanted to speak to one another, yet amusing. You couldn't help but notice how people parted like a flock of birds avoiding fire at the sight of Kylo Ren in all of his dark glory, stalking the halls with you in hand. What a party trick.

Once you were back in the isolation of your medical room and the leech was gone, you actually enjoyed being it. Even if it was the same boring room. One thing that was different though, was a holopad sitting on the bedside table—with your name written on it, literally. You stared at it with wild eyes, it wasn't your holopad. It was probably floating in space in bits along with other debris from your ship. This was one was different, bigger, and more advanced most likely—definitely not your scrap of a holopad. You picked up the note on top of it with your name written on it, the handwriting was sloppy and a bit shaky looking. The letters were spaced a bit too far apart. Such classy penmanship, really. You let the mysterious note drop to the floor—anonymous—and snatched upthe holopad, flicking it on. 

A vast array of twinkling stars and ghostly nebulae shot out in a beam from it and you watched as it stretched across the entirety of your room, creating a blue glow everywhere. You watched it complete wonder as you walked through it, literally walking through space and reaching out to touch the stars, though your hand just moved through them. Your eyes traced three dimensional constellations, your mind wanted to soar through them and plant itself in one to shine bright. The sight took your breath away and pricked your skin with goosebumps. It was beautiful—marvelous. All you could think of, though, was who did this and why. 

Why the hell would anyone do this for you? 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oooooooo. I love these two. They hate each other right now (not really) *hamilton voice* but just you wait, JUST YOU WAIT.
> 
> Remember to leave kudos and send a comment my way! I'd love to hear your thoughts and theories as to what will transpire :)


	11. Chaotic Affairs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It seems that you have a secret admirer, a new holopad with a new set of stars to gaze at has been placed in your medical room. But, this mystery will have to be picked up on another time as more important matters hang in the air for you to grasp. Your droid, Beeree, is sent to be wiped and this knowledge has you pushing the limits on all things. All decency pushed aside, you make it your mission to retrieve your droid before it is too late.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If anyone would like the fic playlist, check my masterlist on my tumblr "Starwarsh0e"

Four days. Many walks and mostly one-sided conversations with Des. No holopad. Which was, in all honesty, a disappointment along with the absence of Kylo Ren in both sight and sound. You’ve gotten no word on what he did or where he went after your more tame encounter with him, not that you really cared. It was just strange, he was like a ghost that was really crummy at haunting people— _you_ , to be specific. Perhaps fear should creep over you more than it did when in his presence, but he just didn't shake you. He _did,_ however, piss you off. And that was enough to make you stay away from him. 

You _didn't_ like, though, that the feeling was mutual. It was like he didn't want to be near you either, yet _he_ seemed to be the one bringing you two together—a bad idea _that_ proved to be. It’s not that it _offended_ you, but it certainly caught you off guard when the uncomfortable tension was felt during that escort by him back to your room. It was like he was cringing as he tugged you along, almost like you were a piece of trash. In a way, you _were_ a piece of trash. But that’s not the point. He was rude. Out of line. And it made you think about him more than you should. 

 _Ah, but he saved your pathetic life,_ you had thought shamelessly. It was the wee hours of the morning and you were pondering over your curious nature that had been dug up from the deep cold grounds of your mind. 

You went to sleep with questions that both frightened and intrigued you escalating in your mind last night.

Were you going to have to owe your life to him? Is that how this works? A life for a life? 

Now, it was the morning of the fifth day since you last saw the holopad for the first time. An unwelcome headache repressed all of your previous thoughts only hours before now and only brought forth feelings of frustration at the amount of light that would be shed on you in about… right now. Behind your closed eyelids you could see the lights of the bright lights of the medbay flicker on and you wanted to push your eyeballs in to where no light could reach them. The only thing you could picture behind your eyes was a blazing fire ready to engulf you in its bright flames, perhaps for dramatic effect, though you knew it was only lights. With a groan, you flipped yourself over in the medical bed and pushed your face into the pillow. Now _this_ …this was absolutely _divine._

“Rise and shine! No more beauty rest for you,” A giggle, “Not that you really need it, of course.”

You let out another groan and lifted yourself with your arms, staring down at the pillow beneath you before letting yourself give in and plopped back down onto it. Your muffled voice rang out, “Lyra, I can’t.” 

“You can and you _will._ Come on, up. Don’t you want to know if you can be let out today?”

“ **No** … because I don’t know what they’re planning to do with me.”

“Okay, I can’t understand a word your saying. Please get up.”

You turned over on your back and sat up sluggishly, immediately glaring at the quirky doctor standing above you. She merely shrugged in return, unfazed by your dull attempts to make her go away. Shoo fly, shoo!

“Alright, make it _quick_.”

She proceeded to do the normal check up on you. Take your blood pressure, check your heartbeat and breathing and even take some blood. The amount of bruises that took up your forearm was getting ridiculous with the numerous times a needle has been injected into your skin. You were literally battered and bruised. 

“Everything looks normal to me, you’re definitely a lot better than when you first came in. Now we just need to work on that attitude of yours…” She told you after coming back from taking your blood to the lab. 

“Hey,” You warned, yawning as you spoke, “It’s before 7 AM, I don’t do mornings.” 

“I see that.” She exited your med room after sending you a smile and grabbing her folder, a small pep in her step as she  out. It was barely noticeable, but you caught it. Maybe it was due to the fact that your state of health wasn't in shambles, or maybe she had something to look forward to. Unlike you, who had her posture giving away her outlook on life.  

Your eyes watered slightly due to your yawn, which only pushed your fatigue to its limits. Caf would be your savior at the moment but alas; that was not an option. Your addiction would have to be tamed. A shame, really, since it would only come back full fledge the second you had your fix. 

Stretching your sleep-heavy limbs, you peeked over to the table in the corner by a small viewport. On it, the holopad. You stared at it before ripping off the white sheets across your legs and scrambling out of bed clumsily, almost tripping over wiring from ivs and such. As soon as you reached the table the holopad was in your hand and being turned on, you were eager to see what display would be shown to you this time around. 

The familiar blue beam shot out of the pad before spreading out across the room, just like last time, and mapped out constellations grew bigger and brighter in the display of space. Well, holo-space that is. You studied the constellations as you walked through it, they were familiar to you since you’d spent nearly your entire life out of pure curiosity mapping out constellations. Reading their origins in dusty books, listening closely to stories of the stars, anything you could get your hands on. It was a slightly depressing, yet wondrous hobby. Some people would take up knitting, or painting. But _you?_ No. You liked dreaming about walking along the lines that connected stars to each other, discovering the in between and the tales of the journeys that brought them together. 

Which brought you to your next question. How could such a personal thing to you be known by someone else?

“I almost forgot, DS-1698 is here to escort you already. I told him you may not be up to it since—”

“Did you do this?” You turned to face Lyra, who had come back to your room once again. She always seemed to do this. 

She scanned the room behind black frames with a stunned look stuck on her face, frozen in time. You shut the pad down, almost feeling protective over the gift to you—that is, if that was even a gift. 

“N-No. Who… _golly._ I have no idea who did this, but that was beautiful.”

You nodded, looking down at the now shut down holopad in your hands as it sat dull and lifeless. This shouldn't be hard to understand, to grasp, to get your mind wrapped around, but it was—it was the hardest thing to do honestly. Receiving just one could have been written off as a mistake—an error in delivery possibly. Two though, two meant something. What, you didn't know but you would find out soon—secretly.

“Tell Des I’ll take him up on that walk. I think I need it.” You had a few other things to settle as well, today you planned on asking Des about Beeree and if he possibly had any knowledge on what the First Order does with brazen droids. You mentally rolled your eyes at the thought of Beeree shocking people left and right but it also sent a small pang to your heart— _no one_ touches your B.

“Oh, okay,” She said, stuttering a bit and still confused as she watched you brush past her to stand in front of the plasma bars, “Going like that? You're barefoot.”

“Yep.”

She extinguished the bars and rushed out ahead of you, scurrying slightly to the doors that lead out to the hallways of the Finalizer to seal them, as if you were really going to escape right now. Ha.

You walked out, seeing Des come to attention from the corner of your eye after standing guard outside your room. He gave you a nod and proceeded to walk next you and presumably wait for the normal conversation you two would have.

“Anything new?” He asked. He’d become somewhat more loose around you, whatever loose was to a stormtrooper at least. The curt nod replies transformed into actual sentences so it no longer felt like you were talking to a tree. 

“Yes and no. There’s only so much that can go on in there. I do have a question though.” 

“Shoot.”

You stopped and turned to him on your heel, halting him in the halls of the medbay. You crossed your arms and tapped a finger on your elbow, thinking this situation you’d bring forth through.

“Where do droids go if they were to be taken captive? Or modified?” 

His head cocked to the right and you mirrored it, not giving up on this conversation and making sure he didn't either. You knew he could see your dead serious face behind that menacing blank mask. This was a conformity easily broken.

He hesistated. Then, “I would think either the tech lab or holding cells. If it’s a threat or needs to be spoken to, then it would be in the holding cells. If it was getting wiped, the tech lab.” 

“Which is more likely to happen?”

“Wiped.”

You sighed, running a hand through your hair and over your face in a stressed manner. God, this was going to be difficult. You’d have to take the lead here, which meant putting whatever trust he had for you down the drain. It seemed like you always ending up doing this. Taking what you want for _not_ the benefit of others, but for _yourself._ The decision had been made. Unspoken but still important—vital.

“I’m sorry.” You stated firmly, giving him a sympathetic look before sending a barefooted kick straight to his chest—creating a stinging feeling to the bottom of your bare foot. Why you weren't handcuffed these past few days and right now was beyond you, but thank _god._ He fell backwards with his blaster flying upwards and you reached up to catch it in mid air, it tumbled for a moment in your hands before you actually got a good grip on it and you jumped over him to sprint. 

Your feet padded the hallways, sending echoes of barefoot running throughout the halls of the medbay. Behind you, you could hear Des following after you and you pushed your legs to move quicker.

Your judgement of his intentions had been wrong and what he was doing would no doubt hurl him into a heap of trouble, which—truth be told—would put you two in the same boat. This boat was beginning to get cramped though, and a sinking would likely occur if any others joined this round trip to hell and back.  

He ran ahead of you to the main center of the medbay, where nurses, doctors and consultants came to a halt at the odd sight of a patient with a blaster in hand hurdling towards them. It wasn't everyday that this occurred, apparently.

“Hold on all comms! I repeat, hold on all comms!” He shouted, arms stretched out in front of him and palms facing them to attempt to stop what would be planned to do. You glanced at him as you ran by, in complete disbelief, but still trudged on.

He was giving you a head-start.

You wanted to know why he would be this stupid to do this for you—why he would risk his job, possibly life, for an minuscule individual like you? Clearly there was no time for these questions or answers to be said, though. Somehow you knew he understood you and that conformity didn't matter right now. So, you simply carried on with the plan you were making up as you went (which could easily end in disaster despite the head-start) and headed for the sealed double exit doors. 

Sliding to a halt in front of them, you began blasting at the control panel that unsealed the doors. Sparks flew wildly about and you shielded your face as you kept shooting. Squeaks from the sparks emitted as the panel eventually became corrupted and deemed unable to complete its job, opening the seals over the doors. As soon as the doors opened, commotion rang out as yells into comms and alerts of your escape filled the room. The names ‘intruder’ and ‘patient’ could be heard by you. Well, once and intruder always an intruder. It fit like a damn glove, that title, and you sought out to become exactly that again as you ran out into the hallways of the Finalizer. Having not a damn clue where the fuck you were going.

Your eyes scanned the walls, looking for signs or anything to help you find the tech lab. That room was your best bet at the point and dammit, you had to be right. You just _had_ to be because checking the holding cells wasn't an option with this cramped timeframe you had. It was now a race against time—and the bunches of troopers you met with as you rounded a corner.  

Well, _kriff!_ This was certainly not pertaining to your interests.

You came to another sliding halt and quickly stumbled to turn around, the troopers soon following you after the state of shock they went into upon seeing you. And as you ran down this hallway, you carelessly ran through even _more_ troopers and officers—not forgetting to say a quick apology because _that_ was rude. 

God, this place was like a fucking maze. Where the hell is the tech lab? Where would that even be and why does it exist? What the hell kind of job title is that?

After about five minutes of outrunning troopers following after you and sending rather clumsy blasts to them, you ran past what looked to be a lab. Retracing your steps, you decided this was a good enough room to have a look-see if this was what you were looking for.  

Startled people with long lab coats blankly stared at you and for a moment, you genuinely thought about saying hello. Pushing any greetings aside, you got to work by basically ransacking the place.  

You booked it to, what looked to be, a back room. It was not. It was a closet with a mop and a pair of boots in it. And a suspicious smell of weed. This was now about as awkward as it could get and you closed the closet door with a slam, frustrated at the possible discovery that this was indeed _not_ the room that you were looking for and that you had just wasted valuable time.

You sighed dramatically and turned, “Look, I _need_ my droid. Are you dimwits the… Tech lab… squad?”

 _Seriously,_ what the hell kind of title did these people have?

There may as well be crickets in the room because not a single noise was uttered from these bright-eyed, probably student, buffoons. You tapped a bare foot impatiently, picking on a certain techie by sending a scorching glare their way.

They bobbed their head ‘yes’ and that was all you needed to put on a real mean face for them. No more Mrs. Nice Gal, that’s all folks.

You pointed a blaster at them and their hands shot up submissively. One girl looked like she was about to faint… or maybe she was just anemic. Finally, something you can work with. A group of people who had no idea how to defend themselves, except for maybe throwing a clicked pen your way in hopes it would stab you somehow. You closed and locked the door to the lab, eyeing them weirdly as you did.

“Drop your comms. I’m used to saying weapons, but I can tell by the looks of it… You guys don’t fuck with those.” 

A series of clangs from the dropping of comms off of belts sounded the room and you could almost laugh at the submissive nature of it all. If only all of your victims were like this. That would certainly alleviate some pains in the ass you’ve had. _Literally._  

“Okaaay.” And with that, you practically skipped to go off and look for an area where Beeree might be. Actually, it may be smart to ask. “Any of you guys wanna tell me where you might have a BB unit droid?”

Still silence.

“Black and white? Probably beeps a lot? About yea high?” You indicated their height with a waving gesture placed two feet above the ground.  

 _Thud!_ The girl with the paling face and gulping throat fell to the floor and her comrades did nothing but look like they were about to follow suit.  

“Um,” You glanced at the floor, looking at the limp girl on the floor. With a click of your tounge, you sent a sarcastic smile their way. Clearly they were useless to you. “Thanks for the help.”

You mad dashed through the lab, finding a small corridor that led to the large room where inspecting and wiping took place. The sight before you made you audibly gasp and a rage filled your lungs, channeling heartbreak in your heart in its wake. Three more douchebags with white lab coats were crowded around a droid— _your_ droid. How fucking _dare_ they hook Beeree up with their hideous wiring to their disgusting machinery. You wanted their heads on a silver platter.

And you would get your wish, _god dammit._

You marched right in to the scene, no longer wanting to view it from behind a clear glass and instead needing to be altering it with director’s notes that consisted of breaking and entering and _killing_. In an irrelevant (yet rage induced) matter, you plowed the end of your blaster into the glass wall, shattering it to shreds. Like an animal, you busted through the broken glass and hurled yourself towards the first man you could get your hands on. Throwing your stolen blaster down, you lunged for his neck, wanting to seep your nails into his skin. You could hardly breathe with the frenzied energy that swirled around you and you threw him down, kicking him square in the head for good measure.  

“You don’t **fucking** touch them.” You murmured bitterly, swirling the bitter venom that coated your tounge in your mouth for extra bite the next time you spoke to an arse.

With a huff, you turned to the other two, who were fleeing the mess you had created to most likely get someone who was capable of taking you down. You however, turned your attention to Beeree who was atop a table and hadn't said a single word to you. This worried you and your hands shook, with either rage or worriedness, as you unhooked them from the machines. 

“B, can you hear me?” You tried, voice slightly weak.

They looked off-set. Over the years spent with them, you'd picked up on their small mannerisms that made them Beeree. How they wobbled in place when they didn't move. How their head was always tilted slightly the left, which was damn cute and they rather despised it when you said so. None of this was shown to you and, _shit_ , it didn't feel like your Beeree. 

You stared at what was their eyes and let out what only could be described as a whimper, feeling defeated and heartbroken all at once. Grasping the droid, you shook them, refusing to believe they had been wiped already. All of those memories and personality could not be gone in an instant like that, it _couldn’t._ You couldn't move from their side. Not yet, you weren't ready to leave them. 

“Come on, B, wake up.” You could feel the tears brimming in your eyes, feel the stinging and burning in both your eyes and chest. “Come back to me.”

You slumped your head forward, letting it hang as you still grasped their small head in your hands. This was never supposed to happen. 

“ _Please_ be okay.” You whispered. This was something they would always tell you before you left for a mission or got hurt or even cried in front of them. And now, you understood the gravity of it’s words. How such important, gentle words that held a meaning so _infinite_ could be spoken by a droid baffled you, but it finally made it’s heavy impact on you. It felt like you had a crater had formed in your heart now, due to the swirling meteor that was this droid’s words.  

You clung tighter to Beeree as marching footsteps could be heard from behind your broken form that was surrounded by broken glass and a broken droid—maybe engulfed by a broken heart. As soon as the marching seized, a different click of boots came strutting down the hallway. Softer, lighter. 

“I should have known you would do something like this. Pathetic, really, coming back for a droid… a wiped droid by the looks of it.”

You snarled. That’s it, enough of this pansy-ass ginger general. His accent could always sound mocking even if that was _not_ his intention, but it sure as hell was now. 

Whipping around, you marched straight over to the general that was lower than sea scum yet much taller than you, glass crunching under your bare feet. At this point, you had absolutely no fuck’s to give and obviously nothing to lose. Come what may.

You slapped him. A full on, red faced, skin stinging slap. It was a _wee bit_ dramatic, but _holy shit_ was it satisfying—glorious, even. You almost laughed until a face of absolute horror came across both of your faces, mirroring each other. His awestricken face turned to a stone cold grimace, his face marked with a red handprint on his left cheek. 

“Get this _witch_ out of my sight.” He growled, accent thick with fury.

Your face held no emotion as two troopers handcuffed you and grabbed you by the forearms, ready to escort you out. Until… a series of chirping beeps.

_Hey. What’s the big idea?_

“Beeree!” You nearly screeched their name and twisted your head to look at them with a beaming smile. 

_What the shitting shit is this shit?_

You let yourself laugh so you didn't begin to sob instead, it sounded maniacal almost, but you didn't care. Still laughing, you began to be escorted out. You looked absolutely mad.

General Hux strode into the room covered in broken shards of glass and you continued to watch with a turned head from your place outside of the room. The troopers were waiting on a command from the general, not sure where to take you. Something told them this was a bit personal.

He knelt down to Beeree and in turn, they sped backwards, alarmed at a newcomer. They didn't take kindly to new faces. He’d learn that the hard way if he made one wrong move. Hux reached over to them again, attempting to attach another wire.

_Don’t touch me, you behemoth!_

Beeree sent a shock to the generals arm and he yelled out, clutching his coated arm and standing to his full height. He kicked them and muttered something about a droid that is ‘just like it’s owner’ and you saw red. 

You lurched forward, managing to yank one arm out of a troopers grasp and ran forward to the doorway of the room. You were practically pulling the other trooper along with you until they finally began to try to pull you back, but you twisted and swiped under their feet, making them fall backwards with a crunching thud. They still had a grasp on you and you yanked with all your might to get away from them, needing to remind this General Weasel that you mean business.

“What the fuck do you think you're doing? Don’t kick them, you idiot. You want another mark on your other cheek?!” You were talking a million miles an hour, stalking towards him like he was prey.

“I SAID TAKE HER AWAY! LORD REN’S ORDERS.”

You stopped, startled a bit by his bellowing voice. He shook with anger and his lips twitched with every thought he had of you. You were insufferable, just like Ren. That still didn't stop him from wanting—needing—you in the Order. 

Once again in the grasps of the troopers, you were pulled away backwards, kicking and screaming. You caught a glimpse of your feet, bloodied and red from both running and walking on glass.

You stopped your fit, though, when they halted stiffly to stand attention at the man who wanted you in a cell it seemed. Kylo Ren. 

He stood in a separate part—tall, covered in black, mask in place. His arms were crossed over his chest and he stalked over to you and something told you he had just watched this whole affair. An embarrassed blush reached your cheeks suddenly, though you didn't know why. Something about his appearance made you feel ashamed, like you were being scolded. It didn't help that he towered over you even more so since you were being dragged and low to the ground.

He crouched down to you, inspecting you with private eyes. You stared back, a bit sheepishly. It felt like something had oddly transpired between you two, even if no words had been spoken. You rolled your eyes and blew out a puff of air to blow some strands of hair out of your eyes. He tilted his head at that, which seemed to be a normal trait for him, you've picked up on it. In return, you grimaced, fed up with this silent game of charades.

It was an awkward feeling swarming in the air, almost muggy feeling, for both the troopers that held you and General Hux. He was growing impatient as he watched Ren play with the girl _and_ him, because that’s what he was doing. Ren didn't need her, but he did.

“Take her to a holding cell. I’ll figure this out.” Kylo said, voice once again mechanical and distorted. His tone sounded softer though, less commanding than usual. 

Panic rose to your throat and they continued to drag you and you picked back up on where you left off, kicking and screaming. 

“What? WHAT? NO, STOP,” You’re struggling and fighting their grip again as he walks away, not even wanting to fool with you any further. The block was still too painful for his mind and at the moment, the force within you felt like it was radiating off of you in waves. How you didn't notice this, was beyond him. It was too much for him at the moment, and as much as that was a surprise to him, he simply shook it off like he always seemed to do with you. 

“I CAN-I CAN BE AN ASSET. GENERAL HUX… HE SPOKE OF WORKING WITH A PLASMA?” 

Hux clears his throat and corrects you from his place in the broken room, “Phasma. Captain Phasma.” 

You glance to him, “Yeah, Phasma. Whatever. I could work with them. I could be a…part of you? Please Mr. Kylo…Lord Ren. Sir? Your majesty? Honestly, no idea. I’m an _'intruder_ ', not a protocol droid.” 

Kylo stops in his stride out and he itched to pinch the bridge of nose in frustration. This damn mask. He cursed Hux for mentioning something like this to you, seriously how incompetent could the man be? Although, he had already half decided to agree to this, to test you out. You’ll never be loyal, though, that’s for sure. It wasn't in your nature—wasn’t embedded in you like it was in the troops.

With this knowledge, he still decides to comply. “Fine.”

He storms out, fists balled and needed to seek the silence of meditation on what could happen with you… And what to even do with you. 

Well, if you had known it would be just one word that would decide your future, you would done this a long time ago. Sheesh.

“What is it that you want us to do with her, General?”

Hux clasps his hands behind his back and waltzes over to you, looking at you smugly. He was rather amused at the heart of it all and glad he got what he wanted out of all of this ruckus. You were reckless but you would be tamed. He’d make sure of that. Phasma would straighten you out and the mere though of it made his smug grin widen.

“Leave her to me and I will escort her to Phasma." 

You wiggle your eyebrows at him once the troopers file out after letting go of you and there was only two. This thorn in your side may shrink with time, you could tell. Honestly, you quite enjoyed his conversations. Even if you did just slap him, which he deserved, it was obvious to you that you two could become friends. Emphasis on _could._

“Don’t think you’re off the hook just yet. Phasma will shut that down, I’m sure.”

“Oh I _know_ I’m not, I just know you just got what you wanted. Didn't you, General?”

He shakes his head and tries to hide a new glint to his eyes because you were right. He was rather pleased with himself, it had been a day full of nothing but things not working out. But today he had won. You were most definitely a prize to be won in his eyes, and he kept his weary eyes on the prize at all times. There’s something to be said about that phrase.

Grabbing you arm, he takes guides you to the training grounds where he will find Phasma more than pleased to be given such a blazing newbie. That, or she will be disgusted by your behavior and mindset. Truth be told, the latter seemed more realistic. 

As he escorted you down the halls, though, there was a mantra going on in your mind. 

_What the hell have you gotten yourself into?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> well. that was a wild chapter. our reader is certainly not a morning person. also, GET EXCITED FOR TRAINING ADVENTURES AND NEW OC. AND PHASMA.


	12. Meeting Room 23

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's been decided, you are now under the First Order's command. As what, you don't know. Captain Phasma is your leading lady at the moment and it's up to you to prove your worth. Now comes the awkward adjustment period, where you eat in a place other than the cafeteria and have an argument with the commander of the Order.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't forget to leave Kudos and Comments!!! I want to know what you think and what you feel bitch.

“You know, you’ve got a lot of _spunk._ ”

“What the hell is _that_ supposed to mean?” You turn your body towards Hux, moving from sitting up against the wall of the hallway outside of Phasma’s office, to a comfortable lotus pose. He looked down at you from his standing position and quirked an eyebrow. 

“ _It means,_ I saw something in you—something I didn't think I would ever see again. Not sure what it could be, though.”

You tapped on your chin, thinking. You wanted to play a guessing game here. “Is it someone that can one-up you? Because I don’t think you’ve _ever_ seen that...  _at all._ ”

With a roll of his eyes, he sighed, miffed at your constant witty approach to things—never _trying_ to take things seriously. That needs to change. You can’t do that around here, he shouldn't even allow you to do it to _him_ — _the_ General Hux. It’s hard not to, though, and perhaps that contributed to the thing he saw in you. You had an odd charm to you, that was for sure—but _charm_ and _wit_ doesn't make him let things he would kill people over slide and slip through his fingers.  

You were a force to be reckoned with, he thought for maybe the hundredth time since he met you.

Sliding down the wall to place himself next to you on the floor, he sighed again and squinted his eyes in thought. His arms propped up on his raised knees. Then, he decides the day has been a long one with you and your chaotic ways and _Ren_ and my **God** , everything else. He deserves a cigarra. With a flick of his wrist, the top of his lighter opens up and he lights one, taking in a slow intake of the intoxicating contents of it—feeling it settle him immediately. He really shouldn't depend of such things as an outlook and a way to alleviate some stress, it’s disgusting. But what else would he do? Make a punching bag with Kylo Ren’s face on it 

“I’ve definitely come across those people, so no. And you’ll come across _exactly_ who I’m talking about soon enough.” Puffs of smoke came out as he spoke, his voice down to a slight whisper and an octave lower now. 

You furrowed your eyebrows at that—at the gravity in his words. It was still rather arduous trying to grasp the fact that you’re actually doing this still, becoming one of _them_. Sure, you’re still you and you always will be… Hopefully. But, this is a much bigger leap into deeper waters than you expected and, really, you were just hoping you weren't going to drown. This new information about someone that could overthrow General Hux, though, made you feel certain that you would drown. Never to come up for air again.

 _Survival,_ you chanted to yourself. _This is just for survival._

 _But what if this is survival of the fittest?_  

“It’s a hard knock life… For us.” You sigh out your words. It’s a lot of sighing today.

Hux simply nods, looking at you with a cigarra wedged in between his full lips. You stared at the disease ridden thing, itching for a smoke. It’s been years since you touched that old habit.

“Can I have a smoke?” You ask, a bit shyly. 

He looks at you intently. You do the same for a moment. It feels as if a mutual feeling as crossed between you two, an acknowledgement of life itself— _and_ how shitty it was to the point you two needed to depend on a thing you throw away at the end of the day to save your sanity. The two of you were going to deal with the same weight of everything together here in this psychopath controlled order. Although, he was more accustomed to it than you were.  

He takes it out from between his lips with two gloved fingers and places it in between yours, watching you as you breath it in. Your hands are still handcuffed, so in a way this truly intimate gesture was necessary. You feel the familiar burning in your throat and lungs and you hold it in as long as you can before letting it out, smoke covering his face yet his eyes still pierce right through it—locking your gaze. 

You look away. And with a chuckle, “Phasma’s gonna fuck me up, aren't they?” 

He looks away as well. “Yep.” 

Speaking of the devil, the door the two of you are sitting near opens and in walks an unusually tall silver stormtrooper. Dirt marks and fingerprints more visible from the sheen of the material of the armor make you assume a mission of sorts was present not too long ago. The non-emotive eye slits staring down at you slightly unsettle you and you adjust your posture, uncomfortable and feeling vulnerable. Apparently you should, Hux scrambles to stand up from his comfortable somewhat laid back position next to you on the floor, as if he was trying to erase what had just happened between you two. You followed suit. 

They looked to be eyeing you, you could feel a ferocious gaze behind that mask like you often did with someone else. It felt masculine and opinionated. Judgmental, yet poised. 

“Captain Phasma, Sir. I’d like to introduce myself—”

“That won’t be needed. I am already quite knowledgeable on who _you_ are.”

Your mind seemed to retrace a numerous amount of steps at the reveal of their voice. _Her_ voice, to be exact.

Behind you, General Hux face palmed quite loudly and your whole body stiffened at the complete and udder _stupidness_ you had just displayed. How could you be so insensitive—so _assuming?_ Completely unlike you. Even though it’s quite easy to assume gender when everyone is so hostile around here, you were _mortified._

Your mouth gaped in both fear and astonishment, “Oh stars, please forgive me. It’s just that you look the way you do, I guess. Shit...” Your hands made a gesture to her whole body nervously, trying to make up an excuse but she silenced you with an oddly graceful hand to your face. You audibly _gulped._

“It happens _all the time.”_

Shit. Well, that doesn't make it any less worse.

You weren't sure if you had been forgiven or not and if you should think about kneeling and begging. Instead, you just awkwardly moved behind Hux, deciding it was best to remain what you actually were—miniscule. 

Her head stiffly turned to Hux and he gave a nod. He would have to clean up your mess later. Now wasn't the time for it and hopefully you’d do that yourself with the inspection of you. Phasma wouldn't be able to refuse you, after all. She's seen what you can do and what you can become. It would be getting there that would determine if she should refuse you.

He seemed to sulk slightly before straightening with a preparatory intake of breath through his flared nostrils. And with an enlightening yet fake tone to his voice, “ _Phasma!_ You are looking radiant as usual.” 

“Cut the garbage, Hux. Why is there an obscene intruder _and_ traitor in my office?”

You snorted, not being able to help yourself. Well, she's not one to put up with bullshit, is she?

He sighed. He had no objection to that accusation. Behind him, you shrunk further into yourself until you felt that you could pass as a rock. Yes, being a rock is nice. Nobody kills a rock for insulting someone. 

She sniffed, catching a scent of the cigarra smoke that was in the air and feeling disgusted with it. You brought out the worst in people it seemed, with your intrusive words and making the General want to smoke again. Phasma scoffed and rolled her eyes from behind her mask, placing a hand on her hip with agitation. 

“Smoking again, General? _And_ in my office?”

“Old habits die hard, Phasma.”

“I see." 

Did they _hate_ each other? You couldn't tell.

He turned to you, giving you a quick frown that felt more scolding than anything. You _really_ messed up. You gave a sheepish grin and that seemed to egg him on. He controlled himself with a deep breath and guided you to the side to speak with you in hushed tones. 

“Don’t say much. Don’t show off that attitude. Just—don’t be yourself.”

There seemed to be a lot of don’ts and not many do’s. Of _course._

You just nodded, feeling like today was judging day and you were being sent to hell. But first, an interview! Come one, come all! Let yourself give everything a shot, only to be plunged into the depths of hell! 

Oh _joy._

* * *

 _Slam!_  

A silver-clad hand slammed a single piece of paper down on the table you sat at. The hand of Captain Phasma. The hand that could very well kill you right now if it wanted to, but its manual controller didn't seem to want to. You stared the slip of paper blankly, identifying it as your criminal record. It’s been a while since you’ve seen that thing _and_ since it’s been updated—about three years, to be exact.

“Let’s see: Several counts of aggravated assault, theft, trespassing, resisting arrest, and possession of stolen property. All in the span of two years? Not to mention your last record was updated _three years ago_ and I _know_ you’ve done more since then.” 

“I mean, I didn’t _always_ get caught…” You shrugged, fiddling with your handcuffed wrists.

With an aggravated sigh, she plopped down into the seat across from you. In one fluid motion, she took you aback when she reached up and took off her helmet, revealing blonde hair and pale skin. Her hair was short, it didn't reach her shoulders, only the tops of her ears. And there was that gaze that you were correct about when you assumed it would scorch you, because right now it was burning and begging to leave a scar.

She rubbed her temples with her face downcast, truthfully thinking of the many ways she could throw you out of her sight and the First Order. If she took you in… Well, that was hard to imagine. She could almost laugh at it because it was _so_ unbelievably ridiculous. You were a perfectly shaped diamond that needed to be put in a square box and fill in all corners of it—impossible. And what would the talk be like on the base? If it wasn't shady enough already, that is. 

Still, she pondered on Ren’s private words spoken to her only yesterday. 

 _“When you meet her, you won’t be able to deny that there is something begging to be released within her. What it is, that’s for you to find out. And the only way to find out is to keep her around.”_ He had said, pacing erratically before her. No further explanation. It wasn't needed, anyways, Phasma could feel _exactly_ what he was warning her about at the moment.

You waited on baited breath as Phasma suddenly straightened and began tapping her fingers on the table placed before you two. Meeting her gaze was even more intense than you had anticipated and… Where you _sweating?_ You didn't feel fear consume you inflicted by _her_ , simply fear at what would be done with you. Everything was happening here and now, no more thinking was to be done. The decision had been made and you were now realizing that you didn't do a very good job at proving your worth, if you had any, to them. You’d possibly done the shittiest job ever. 

“You’ll be put into a training system. I need to watch you—to see what you can do. To know what makes or breaks you, but don’t you be fooled,” She leaned in closer to you and you two challenged each other, but you could see an amused glint in her eyes in the depths of her blue irises, “I _will_ break you. I will break everything you are and use the crumbled pieces of you to build someone you won’t be able to recognize when you look in the mirror. Let that be a guide, if you will, to what you will get when working with me.” 

You were the first to blink. In all honesty, you were completely _grateful._ On the verge of shitting yourself, yes, but grateful. This was a luxury to you. You sat back in your seat, nodding thoughtfully with arms crossed over your chest. 

“When do I start this whole breaking process?” 

“You already have. When you met me.”

Plunged into hell you certainly were, because you’d just made a deal with the devil herself. And you never would have guessed that the devil had perfectly coiffed blonde hair, be about about six foot three, and have slightly rosy cheeks.

* * *

To even out things a bit, the food aboard the _Finalizer_ wasn't terrible. Although, given all of the disorganization that came with locating the cafeteria (by _yourself_ ) after Phasma had practically _thrown_ you out of her office and then getting food for yourself, it almost overpowered even getting to eat. The taste made up for it, not so much for everything else. You were still under their command now, you still had injuries, and you still had an adjusting period to overcome. Now, it was up to you to get _out_ of the cafeteria. Everyone here had made it _very clear_ that you were _not_ welcome. 

Troopers with helmets off to reveal sneering faces looked you up and down as you walked by, picking at your food and looking for a seat somewhere. Officers whispered things they had heard about you as they made eye contact with you, and above all else—the damn chefs gave you smaller portions than everyone else. You simply stood in the middle of the cafeteria, shedding off awkward as hell energy for everyone to feel as you avoided people’s gazes.

The looks, you could understand, you were still barefoot after all _and_ wearing a white medical jumpsuit. Phasma told you you’d be receiving training wear soon, so for now it was this and eventually your boots when you could get them. Still, it was quite childish, and thats coming from _you:_ the most childish grown woman ever at times. It looks like you’ll have to be proving yourself around here, but you were not going to start today. Not when everyone still wants your head on, well, _their_ platter.

You scanned the room, deciding it was best to eat somewhere else and left. If this was not allowed, so be it. You’d figure this shit out another day. But where to go? You read the writings on the plaques next to doors in the hallways, casually giving a side-eyed glance to people who gave you the stink eye. Seriously, did news spread around this quickly? It made sense, though, it’s not like they have anything better to do besides slave over a datapad for a dark-robed wearing commander. 

 _Interrogation room B…_ Nope.

 _Resting chamber…_ What?

 _Meeting room 23…_ Looks good to you.

You entered the room, basically half eaten plate in hand. It was empty, save for a long table with chairs neatly placed around it and a plant. You raised at eyebrow at the small vegetation in the room. It seemed misplaced, like it wasn't supposed to be there. It created a curious contrast when placed in a room so dark and modern and undeniably military influenced. Much like you. 

“Well, plant, it seems like it’s just you and me together on this fine evening.” You mumbled, kicking the door closed with your foot. 

You silently wished Beeree were accompanying you on this awkward journey. They went to go charge somewhere and promised to find you later on. Although, come to think of it, now _was_ later. Whatever.

The plant fell over with a ruffled _thud_ in response to your greeting. You blinked. Was it something you said? 

No longer paying mind the the plant you briefly shared a connection with that was now turned to its side the floor, you settled yourself in a chair to eat your sparse meal. This was, perhaps, more awkward than standing in the middle of a bustling and gossip-filled cafeteria. You had nothing to do except kick over the plant and stare at the door across from you. 

You eyed the array of fruit on your plate, even though it was not much your mouth watered at the sight of pears. It’s been a while since you’ve had anything fresh, you were on a liquid diet during most of your stay in the medbay. Picking it up with your hands, you bit into the sweet and slightly tangy fruit, bright purple juice pouring out onto your lips, chin, and hands. You couldn’t help yourself, you moaned at the taste of it and before you knew it, had devoured the entire fruit in about thirty seconds. You wiped at your mouth with your sleeve, staining the pure white cloth with purple pear juice. You quickly realized you should have grabbed a napkin or something, this was quite messy. 

Shifting in your seat, you propped up one leg on the table. It was so uncivilized but it felt good, almost authorized in a way. Sitting at a meeting table could do that. The only thing that felt uncomfortable, was a weird lump you could feel against your hip. You felt around it, feeling a round device in your pocket. _Oh._ The holopad. It was still in your pocket from the last time you had received a new hologram recording of constellations. Pulling it out, you switched it on, feeling the curiosity and linkage growing inside of you at the sight. 

You ate another pear and watched the hologram dance around the room, it slightly orbited around and took up the entire room like it had before. It was easy to get lost in examining every single detail of it, which caused you not to notice the door that was now behind you, since you had spun your chair around, to open and have someone enter the room. 

“I thought I’d find you eating somewhere other than the cafeteria. Looks like you caused quite a scene out there.”

You jumped, pear flying out of your hands and rolling under the table. You frowned. You were just starting to enjoy your twenty minutes or so of seclusion before Mr Mask here had to come and disturb you.

You spun around to face him, finding that he had already taken a seat across from you. He was looking directly at you, you could feel his eyes on you—feel the curious energy buzzing in the air. He looked _entirely_ too big for the chair he sat in and it made you wonder how he got in it so quickly. The width of his shoulders were wider than the back of the chair and his long legs were no doubt squished under the table. You wondered what his face looked like once more. Wondered what his thinking face was like as you assumed he must have one plastered on judging by the way he was so carefully inspecting you.  

He tilted his head, “You…” But he decided against his words. Behind his mask, he was holding in a snicker. The sight of you with purple pear juice dripping from your chin and it smeared on your white sleeve was distracting. Almost overwhelming, because it felt so… normal, was it? Maybe so. It felt like an easy situation that, normally, people would laugh at and turn into an inside joke. Odd that you of all people brought that feeling forth to him. 

“I _what?”_ You asked, folding you arms across your chest impatiently, allowing your finger to tap on your arm in concentration. He still had his head titled, something he always did you assumed. The dark slit surrounded by the silver plates seemed to bore into you, making you internally squirm. Your eyes shifted away from him to look at the holopad and turned it off. “You’re making me uncomfortable.” You mumbled, adding in a ‘per usual’ that was softer than your mumble. 

Kylo made a gesture to his face, or rather mask, and you squinted your eyes inquisitively at him, trying to decipher what he was telling you. Face. _Your_ face. Your face… was covered in purple juice. _Right._ You wiped your hands on your pants and then proceeded to wipe your face off the best you could. A sheepish look grew on your face once you looked back to him. 

“I’m sorry my purple face is so _disgusting_ for you to look at.” You huffed. 

Yet again, you were agitated just by his presence. As was he with you. Neither of you could figure out why he had come in here or even started looking for you in the first place. The reasoning behind the agitated you both felt for each other could be differentiated though. You suspected yours was because of the mystery veil of him he could easily lift, that mystery being his mask and his whole getup, it was a bit harder to figure him out like this. On the other side, he was agitated because of the energy between you two through the Force, it was so present at the moment he could almost reach to feel it. _Almost._ If it weren't for the block, he’d be dancing his way through your mind and memories like your thoughts were the music playing and he was keeping beat. 

He decided to bring light to a new subject, to ease his mind for once, “What was that hologram?”

You sat back in your seat, shifting your eyes from him to the holopad once again. “It appears to be an array of constellations, some of which I’m familiar with. I don’t know where this came from or _who_ it came from, but it just showed up in my room one day. Twice.” 

“Twice?”

You nodded, “I’m not sure if I should care that someone sneaked into my medical room, maybe while I was sleeping, and placed this sort of… endearing object on my bedside table,” You fiddled with it on the table, thinking on it even more as you spoke, “Or if I should just brush it off considering I’m now too busy being entangled in your little _space cult._ ”

His reflection on the table revealed that he was silently chuckling since his shoulders were bouncing a bit as you stared at the mirrored image of him. Still staring at his reflection and not at him, you saw him stand and move out of the frame you were looking at him through. That’s when you snapped your head up at him, letting your eyes burn a hole through his back. It was as if he felt the fire from your grimace because he turned back to you in a neck-snapping movement.

“Lest you forget, _I’m_ the one who saved your future back there. You should be thankful.”

You slammed your hands on the table and stood up, making the plate shake from the force of your hands and the chair slide backwards with a cringe-worthy skid. “Thankful?” You scoffed, “Thankful for you _butting in_ when I could have done that _myself?_ Oh no, no thanks.” 

“If you could have done it yourself why didn't you try harder instead of proving how _reckless_ and _disruptive_ you are to the order? You’re being a coward.” His voice grew louder with each point at you as he spoke, his other hand balled in a fist by his side, illustrating his fuming anger. 

Your tone reached a darker, rage infused tone, “At least I’m not hiding behind a mask.”

With that, you scooped up your plate angrily and marched out, wanting nothing more than to go scream into a closet somewhere. The nerve of that guy. 

Then, you realized you didn't know how to get to the medbay from here. You had no idea where you were to be perfectly honest. Retracing your steps angrily, you found that he was still there, looking angsty, tall and dark as usual. 

“Where the fuck is the medbay?” You spatted your words, feeling slightly embarrassed at the ridiculousness of this. It didn't help that he was about a foot taller than you either, it made you feel less serious and even more lost. You seriously needed to get a map for this place so you could storm off properly.

Beneath his mask, he quirked an eyebrow at you and stared down the bridge of his nose at you seeing that you realized you were headed the wrong way. He pointed in a direction that was the opposite of where you were walking and you rolled your eyes at the vagueness of it.

“ _Real_ helpful. Thanks.” You muttered sarcastically, heading towards the direction he pointed you to. You needed to speak to Lyra. Talk about sleeping arrangements with her because there was no way in hell you were rooming with troopers or officers tonight, not when they could potentially kill you in your sleep. No thank you.

Maybe eating in Meeting Room 23 wasn't the best place to eat at after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, since I know what's to happen... I can officially say the ship has SAILED. I guess. Stay tuned for the next chapter, it's fairly important. Kylo and Reader-chan arguments are... interesting to Kylo.


	13. Behind the Mask

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will the man behind the mask keep you from proving your worth to the order by infiltrating your mind and dreams? You are fiercely determined not to let it happen, but he isn't doing a very good job at supporting your decision, not when his actions are leading to your pyre.

Lyra was more than happy to allow you to stay with her for as long as you’d like, in fact she was squealing in the medbay for all to hear at the thought of a roommate and that you were, reluctantly, here to stay. You were safe. She’d explained to you how she actually lived not on the Finalizer, nor the Starkiller Base, but on a satellite just above the icy planet. In it, was where she spent most of her time with studies and research, along with a few other doctors, and had an apartment-like room where she lived a rather domestic lifestyle with her cat, Elmer. Which was a huge contrast to the fact that she worked for the First Order.

It was odd, leaving to go to the satellite, because of a few reasons: You didn't know if you were supposed to be anywhere at the moment, you had no clue where Beeree could be and you _needed_ them, and you had no belongings to bring. Your rucksack most likely blew up along with your poor (shitty) ship, and you seriously doubted Kylo didn't think to grab it. It was a bit disheartening, losing valuable items to you, some old and some new. They all held importance to you and, sadly, they weren't things you could replace. At least a new set of clothes would fix _some_ of the problem and hopefully they were worth the wait, for now it looks like you’d be living out of Lyra’s closet. 

“Well, I suppose you’re all set. I don’t know _how_ we’re gonna fit _all_ of that stuff you have in my tiny apartment, though!” Lyra joked, walking alongside you through the hallways of the Finalizer to the hangar. 

You gave her a small smile as you glanced at her for a second, but joking around didn't really appeal to you at the moment for once. You felt bad. For what, you couldn't exactly pinpoint, it was a mix of things you’d been observing ever since you’d starting walking around on board. Onlookers still gave you lingering glances as you walked the halls with her, probably belittling Lyra in their mind seeing that you two were friendly with each other. It made your jaw clench in anger at the thought that you’d be corrupting her image by simply being who you were. You shouldn't stay with her long, that much was evident. Could she lose her job for housing you? 

Perhaps these questions should be saved for later, but you couldn't help but feel like you should jump at the opportunity to get the answers you wanted.

“Am I going to mess things up for you by living with you?” You blurted out, jumbling your words as you spoke from nervous energy clouding over you. 

“What? Why would you think that?” She scoffed a bit, as if your concern was completely unthinkable, “Of course not. And even if you did, do you think I really care what people say around here? I do my own thing and you do yours. I know you’re on the wrong side to them and I _also_ know what you’ve done, but that isn't going to stop me from helping you out. You need it.” 

“But… Will you lose your job?” You rubbed your arm nervously, still pondering on what could potentially happen. 

“Psh.” She waved her hands in a careless matter, “Hell no. Not because of you, at least. Maybe if I screwed up big time, yeah, but not because you’re staying with me.”

You let out a long sigh, feeling slightly relieved at her reassurance. Damn, she really was on your side. She could be a good friend, if you let her in that is. You smiled softly at her, bumping her shoulder playfully. 

“Thanks, _really._ ” 

She smiled brightly in return, “No problem.”  

A comfortable silence sat between you two as you reached the hangar and you let yourself admire the colossal ships that were docked, humming machinery and loud sprays of steam filled your ears as you began boarding a transport shuttle. A ghastly opening into the vast vacuum of space was just to the right of you, and it made you feel as if you were slowly shrinking as you watched tie fighters zoom out and roar mightily. Just as you stepped on the ramp to board the ship, a new sound made your ears perk up, a series of beeps and whirls could be heard through all the commotion of the hangar. You turned, standing on your tip toes to get a glimpse of what you thought it could be.

A familiar droid zoomed past marching troopers with vigor until it found itself lost in the midst of the hangar and paused for a moment, searching for what could be it’s owner. Shaken and annoyed at the disaster that was having no luck in finding them.  

“Beeree!” You shouted, waving your arm in the air wildly so it could see you. Their head turned to face you and as soon as they saw you, they wiggled with excitement and zoomed up to you. Dropping to your knees, you put your arms around them tightly and squeezed with all your might. Gods, how you loved this droid of yours. 

 _Really missed you. I’m glad I found you here, I was a little lost._

“How did you find me?” You asked, cheek pressed against the warm metal of the droid, “And _where_ the in the living _hell_ were you?”

You pushed yourself away from them, a scolding frown on your face. It was times like this you truly felt like a parent to them, they sure as hell got into trouble very much like a toddler would, though, so it was only natural. 

 _Oh, you know, droid’s luck. I’ve been roaming around this maze of a ship all day looking for you ever since I finished charging! Which, might I just add, was very refreshing and I feel brand new._  

“Well, we’re leaving. The three of us—” 

_Wait, who’s ‘we’? Who is this third person?_

“Lyra. She’s letting us stay with her for the time being. Until I can get my own room, hopefully.” 

 _So… You’re staying?_  

“Well, yes. I’m under Phasma’s—” 

_ARE YOU FUCKING CRAZY? WHAT ARE YOU, OUT OF YOUR FUCKING MIND?_

You groan and roll your eyes, letting Beeree have at it with the harsh comments on your decision. You nodded every once in a while as you let them screech a series of angry high-pitched beeps at you, watching them pace with an anger only a droid could convey. It was _their_ turn to be the scolding parent now, it seemed.

“Beeree. Stop it. I get it, it’s crazy. Treacherous, even. But let. me. ex. plain.” You told them timidly, clapping sassily as you spoke the syllables of your sentence. 

_Fine. But don’t think, even for a second, that I won’t be bitching to Le—_

“SHH!” You pointed a warning finger at them and they shut up immediately, “Ixnay on the Eia-lay.” You warned through clenched teeth and hushed tones. 

_Right. Of course. So, you’re just going to forget she’s relevant in all of this? You’re going against her!_

“Just… Let me explain when we get back to Lyra’s. I really just want to get some sleep, B, it’s late.”

Even though you were avoiding talking about the touchy subject that is Leia Organa, you really were tired and it really was late. Given what lay ahead for you in the long run, you deserved some rest. That was something you’d allow yourself to have. You had an inkling that these next few weeks would involve a certain General and Captain up your ass, hopefully _not_ accompanied by their little broody pet they call Commander. That would very easily send you into madness and, surprisingly, that _wasn't_ already on the agenda nor did it _need_ to be. Just breaking you as a person was on there, no biggie, and it’d probably be completed in a week judging by the way you were feeling.  

Yep. You deserved rest. Sweet, sweet slumber. 

* * *

It was all but large, Lyra’s apartment. Not much that caught the eye, either. She was a simple person, didn't want or need much to satisfy her quest to happiness and it was evident that materialistic things didn't appeal to her. As you roamed around the apartment while settling yourself in, you found it to be something to marvel at. It was charming and quirky and completely her. If a stranger simply walked in, they’d know about 10% of what makes up Lyra just by looking around. Books took up a lot of the living area, some neatly put away in a book shelf to read later and some that seemed to be currently in the reading process since they were scattered about on a small table in front of the couch. The couch you’d no doubt be sleeping on for stars know how long.

“It’s not much, but I think you’ll find it quite comforting.” She stated, picking up a plate, a mug, and a few books in a panicked cleaning matter. You shrugged, still looking around the place.  

“It’s… how do I say this… Quaint? And undeniably charming.” 

“You don’t have to clean up for me, you know. I could care less.” You helped her pick up a few open books off the table despite your reassurance to her, sending a worried glance to her frazzled figure.

“Well, I _do_ care. It’s usually not this messy, I suppose you caught me at a bad time,” She chuckled, setting down the plate and mug in the kitchen sink to the left of you with a loud clank. She leaned up against the counter, brushing some hair out of her face that had peeked out from underneath her hijab. “Sometimes I have to be in the lab quite late or stay in the medbay for a few days and well… This happens.”

“Trust me, I’ve seen worse.” You waved her off, making a statement that it was nonsense to think this was a messy apartment. She literally only had two dishes out, the rest of the apartment practically sparkled. You’ve stayed in places where there weren't even dishes to be left out and sand was your carpet that _also_ got in every nook and cranny of _everything._  

You plopped down in a seat next to the couch, staring out of the viewport that was on the other side of it. Beeree zoomed up to you, deciding to look out as well. A soft smile tugged at your lips as you looked down at them, remembering that Lyra had mentioned having a pet before.

“Where’s that infamous cat of yours? Elmer, was it?” You asked, turning to her from your spot on the other side of the room. She was still washing dishes, did she not hear that you really didn't care? Goodness gracious.

“I’m not sure. Hm, normally he comes out right when I open the door,” She looked around whilst scrubbing away at a bowl, “Elmer?!” She called out over her shoulder.

A soft jingling bell could be heard coming faintly from the other room, Lyra’s room you guessed, and out came a black and white cat that somewhat reminded you of Beeree because of it’s color. He ran straight to Lyra, rubbing at her legs gingerly and pawing at her pants. You gasped and cooed, running over to the little thing with awe in your eyes. You loved animals and truthfully haven't come across a domestic one in quite some time.  

“Hello Elmer.” You sat down on the floor, patting it so it would hopefully come to you. He looked up and stared at you, looking confused as to who you were and why there was a stranger in their house. You put your arms out, gesturing for him to come to you but Elmer had different plans. They darted to Beeree, running right past your open arms without question. You frowned and turned around to look at Beeree, only to find that they were rolling backwards _away_ from Elmer in fear of what it could be.

You laughed, “He’s not gonna hurt you, B. Just let him do his thing.”

And do their thing he definitely did, Elmer made quick work to make sure Beeree felt welcome by rubbing their chin and nudging their head on them. You could hear purring from where you were, loud and rumbling. It was an impossibly cute sight and Lyra seemed to agree since you could hear her ‘Aww’ from behind you. It took you by surprise when Beeree made it clear that they felt other wise. Beeree _screeched._

 _Have I been engaged in some strange mating ritual?_  

“I bet he likes you because of the heat you generate. Like I said, let him do his thing. You’ll get over it, you big drama droid.” You snorted at how uncomfortable and squeamish Beeree looked at the moment with their head slowly inching away from the cat. For a droid, they could certainly convey a lot more than the average human.  

_I have every right to freak out over this._

“Sure. But it’s a _cat._ Calm your bolts.” 

Elmer must have decided snuggle time was over for Beeree because he ran over to you, doing the exact same. You welcomed it, unlike Beeree, and pet his head softly with the back of your hand, enjoying how soft his fur was to the touch. He purred even louder at that and drug his entire body against yours whilst circling you. With an amused laugh at how particular this cat was, you let him pet himself with your hand by arching his back upwards, turning to talk to Lyra as you did. 

“Is he always this way with strangers?”

“Pretty much. He claims everything with that little chin of his.” She went over to a cabinet and scooped out some cat food and at the sound of it rustling around, Elmer ran like a dart determined to hit the target to his food bowl, eagerly digging in as soon as it hit the pan. 

A silence filled the room, save for the rustling of cat food and the soft crunching that came after it. It was strangely relaxing sounding and you felt fatigue fill your bones. Your eyes felt heavy and the thought of getting up to walk over to the couch (that was three feet away) made you want to shrivel up and die.

“You know,” She added, “I could use some help down at the lab tonight, only if you’re comfortable with it. I would just need you to send some test tubes down to base. 

As she spoke, you yawned, not out of boredom but out of head-nodding fatigue. “I feel bad for saying this after all you’ve done for me, but I’m exhausted and I was looking to go to sleep. I’m supposed to meet with my trainer tomorrow morning at the _Finalizer_ , actually. Would it be possible for me to take them in the morning when I leave?” 

She leaned against the small makeshift island that was really a table in the kitchen, nodding her head both thought and agreement, “That should work, as long as they're delivered by noon.”

“Deal.”

You picked yourself up off the floor, shuffling your way to the couch and plopping yourself on it, not even bothering to get a pillow or blanket. 

“Don’t you want to bandage up your feet or something before you hit the hay? I still cant believe you went the whole day barefoot, sheesh.”

You waved her off, not worrying about the scratches and cuts underneath your feet from walking on the broken glass you shattered in an attempt to free Beeree. The fact that that happened only this morning weirded you out. It felt like it happened days ago.  

No longer allowing yourself to put anymore effort into the day, you closed your eyes, listening to what would be the nightly routine in this household occur. Elmer was now drinking water, Lyra was shutting off lights and brushing her teeth. You should probably do the same, only you currently didn't own a toothbrush. The only thing you owned at this point was your dignity… Maybe. 

“Goodnight!” You heard Lyra say from her room. 

“Night!” You shouted back.

 _Sleep tight,_ Beeree chirped before shutting down to sleep mode with a soft whirl of a noise.

Getting yourself comfortable, you adjusted your position on the couch and curled up into a ball, letting sleep wash over you. Unwelcome dreams, visions almost, of the man behind the mask infiltrated your mind—dreams you would not remember.

* * *

Stretching with an uncontrollable soft yawn, you felt fatigued bones and muscles beg you to stay put. It was all but uninviting and the ache hiding behind the back of your eyes didn't help the yearning to go back to sleep—to roll over and be whisked away by dreams, forgetting every responsibility you now had under your skin.  What finally and thankfully got you to embrace reality, though, was a presence on your chest—and a heavy one at that. And… The overwhelming feeling to sneeze? Your face contorted with your eyes sealed shut as you felt the tingly sensation in your nose. 

 _Ah-choo!_ You squeaked out a sneeze rather violently, causing you to fully wake up disturbingly. 

You sniffed, rubbing your nose harshly to get the tickle out of your nose so you could relax a bit. The sneeze was gone, but the presence was _not_ faltering. It moved and shifted its weight upon you, addling your fried brain much too well. You opened your eyes to peer up at what it could be, only to be greeting by none other than Elmer. He kneaded your chest softly for his own comfort, clearly not paying any mind to your own,  and stared at you like the strange being you were. His ear twitched in the same moment your eye twitched. Confusion with a guest named frightened made themselves at home within you and with a screeching yelp, that apparently startled Elmer enough for him to bounce off of you, you rolled over on the couch and landed with a dull thud on the floor.

Stars, that scared the living daylights out of you! Would this happen _every goddamn morning?_

You let out a loud groan that dragged on for a dramatic amount of time, feeling every ounce of frustration that could be felt. Rubbing your head and trying annoyingly hard to take in your predicament, you settled yourself on the floor, lying there shamelessly. The floor felt as if it were warmly embracing you at the moment and you decided to relish in its greeting. Perhaps you should stay here the entire day, not pay attention to what needed to be done and who needed to be talked to. Perhaps you could become the floor beneath people's feet... Perhaps you should get the fuck up, actually. That sounded like the better idea the more you pondered on it. But still, it took a lot more willpower than you were used to to peel yourself away from the floor you apparently longed to become. Elmer mewed at you once you were standing, feasting his eyes on what was, unbeknownst to him because he is a cat, a conflicted human being.

Then, you became frightened again. You suddenly were realizing why there would be a kneading cat on you and why you were no longer in a hospital bed where you would never roll off of. 

 _Lyra._ You were staying with Lyra.  

Another realization struck you. _Shit._ You’re supposed to take something to base for Lyra. You’re also supposed to be meeting your trainer today, no doubt with Phasma breathing down your neck. _Double shit._

With a speed that felt like but certainly _wasn't_ faster than light speed, you dashed around the apartment looking for something to quickly eat something to quickly get dressed in. Not worrying what you looked like. You paused by a clock, looking at the time. 45 minutes till noon?! How had you slept in this late? What time were you even supposed to meet your trainer? Oh stars, you were completely done for.

You ransacked her closet, grabbing a pair of cuffed brown pants and a white tunic that were both much too large for you, but unfortunately it would have to do for the day. Hopping on one foot out of her room with a delectable pear in your mouth, you tugged on a pair of boots you found hidden in the deep ends of her closet. She wouldn't might, right? Surly she wouldn’t, you didn't have anything else to wear except for this medical cloth shit they call a jumpsuit. 

Your hair was all over the place, not suited for any sort of physical activity but it would have also to do. Running your fingers through it wasn't an option, either. It was a complete nest ready for a creature to burrow itself in and there was no time to play beauty salon at the moment. 

“Bye Beeree, Bye Elmer! Pray I don’t die.” You called out, opening the door roughly and ready to step out. Only, something made you pause in your stride out—something that laid in front of the door. Something that was specially meant for _you._

In front of you on the floor laid neatly folded black clothes with boots sitting atop of them, a long wooden staff, and your rucksack with a note next to it all. You reached down for the note, snatching it up a bit angrily as you felt you knew _exactly_ who did this. 

> _**You’ll be needing these.** _

You stared intently at the scribbled messy handwriting before you, harsh and leaving indents in the paper, remembering this exact handwriting used to write your name on a note in another instance—when you first received the holopad. Gears turned in your mind and you found yourself gaping in awe at the discovery of who your secret admirer had been all along, your eyes shifted back in forth in thought, mulling over the same idea as if it were crazy again and again. The thing that struck you was that it _wasn't_ crazy, in fact, it made _sense._

It had to be Kylo, it just had to be. There was no other way around it.  

This was why he was so adamant about everything with you in Meeting Room 23. You’d tried him, you suspected he did this and he denied it, acted like he had only been curious about the holopad. Now it all made sense. He saved your life, possibly twice by letting you work under Phasma, and now he was… Giving you things? Attempting to intrigue you? You weren't sure what he was trying to do with this holopad nonsense and this helping hand. A guessing game could be played, but you weren't one to fiddle around with guessing—answers would need to be pulled out like teeth. It slightly infuriated you, not knowing, and you couldn't help but feel like he was plotting something against you. There was only one thing to do about this and that was to get to the bottom of this, even if you had to reach a bit. 

But why? Why is he doing this? Why you?

You shoved the note in the back pocket on your pants and picked up the stuff on the ground, closing the door with a kick after you’d moved back inside. You set everything down on the island in the kitchen and let the staff lean against it. Then, opened up the rucksack to see what could still be remaining inside of it. 

Backup blaster was gone, _of course._ You rolled your eyes at that with a tired scoff. At least he put your leather jacket in here and returned your boots to it’s rightful owner. Your mother’s ring, old book and camera were still intact as well. Thank the _stars._  

“ _I guess_ I could appreciate that.” You murmured to yourself, still rummaging through your bag. You remembered a valuable token sitting inside of your jacket, waiting to be used to its full potentional, and opened up a zipped pocket to reveal it still in there. The tiny chip that held all of the ginormous secrets pertaining to the order the Resistance needed. The chip that _you_ stole. You stared at it in your hand, letting it come into focus, marveling at how something so minuscule could be so… Vital. Much like you, perhaps. You decided to keep it just incase that slim chance of getting out of this hell opened up one day. 

As an idea swam across your mind of where to keep it, your eyes shifted to the bookcase across the room. Walking over to it, you then pulled out a dusty book you knew no one would think to touch, hence the one inch thick dust collected on it, and placed it in between a page. No one would suspect a thing.

Since you were still on a time crunch, you made quick work to change into the clothes and he boots given to you, deciding _not_ to be a bitch and refuse them. You, admittedly, needed them. Lyra’s clothes simply wouldn't do and you didn't have the heart to tell her you ripped them at the end of the day of training. Slipping on your leather jacket and pulling your hair out from underneath it, you got ready to _actually_ leave this time by grabbing the staff and placing the note in your new pants before heading out in a mad dash to the lab. You’d peered at a small map on the side of the door before leaving that told you were it was located, so you followed it to the best of your memory.  

It was clear that you’d never really had a time schedule to follow and you made a mental note to force yourself to adjust. _Soon._ You weren't doing a very good job trying to earn peoples respect around here already and that needed to change _overnight._ If it wasn't possible, you'd _make_ it possible. Starting now. 

You were running and turning down somewhat empty hallways and before you knew it, you’d reached the lab. It wasn't that long of a trip from her apartment. Maybe that’s why she stayed here so often. It was practically down the hall. Convenient, if you do say so yourself.

Knocking on the glass wall, you watched as she turned to you from her sitting position in a chair and got up in a frenzy, picking up a metal box before opening the door.

She looked to be irked and slightly preoccupied, she’d been tapping a pen in a timely matter on her desk before you had knocked. Her hair looked mucked up, like she had been digging her fingers through it trying to ease an impending headache. Her whole occupation was a headache, really, with failing research threatening her and more deaths racking up. It was her own little war in the midst of a looming galactic war.  

“You’re late.”

“I know.” You made a face, annoyed at yourself for doing this to her.

“It’s fine, just _go now._ You’ll be late to delivery and to meeting with your…” 

“Trainer. I think.” You finished for her, taking the box out of her grasp carefully. You could feel and hear glass wobbling inside as you did, making you let out a wince at the thought of you dropping this. You weren't exactly _graceful_ all the time.

“Right. That. Alright, head straight down that way and you'll reach a docking area where you can board the transport shuttle. From there, you'll be taken to the _Finalizer._ When you get there, take this to the medbay or give it to anyone you see in a white coat. Simply tell them it’s from me, they’ll know what to do,” She pointed you in the direction to go and you nodded, trying to remember everything step by step, “Now, go go go!”

You speed-walked down the hallway in the direction she told you to go in, wincing with every step at the jingling of glass incased in the metal box. 

This was going to be a _long day._

* * *

You were fucking _lost_ on the  _Finalizer_. 

Every turn you made sent you to somewhere you didn't need to be, making the someone you needed to be with grow more and more impatient with each passing minute you wasted in this damned to hell maze.

You stopped, looking around you whilst adjusting your grip on the metal box in your hands, searching for a white coat.

“You!” You shouted the minute you spotted one in the mix of rushing officers and lieutenants and ran over to them, “I need you!”

“Me?” He pointed at himself, looking astonished as to why someone needed him. He looked young, a bit scrawny. His tan skin created an aesthetically pleasing contrast to his all white outfit, making you feel the need to adjust your eyes or something.

“Yup,” You shoved the metal box into his arms, “This is from Dr Lyra Oilel, she expects you to know what to do with this. If not, take it to the medbay. I gotta run.”

He looked perplexedly at you and you could tell his brain was probably a giant unorganized filing cabinet and you were only feeding it’s haphazard state. Unfortunately, you weren't here to organize his life for him, you were just the delivery girl.

You gave him a single pat on the shoulder before turning around and sprinting back into the hangar, hoping to run into someone who wasn't so dazed and busy with the jobs at hand to stop and give you some directions. You assumed you would be wanted in Phasma’s training arena and while you knew what it looked it, you had no clue how to get there, or anywhere for that matter. Hopefully you’d learn soon enough because running and asking and running again was becoming tiring and amateurish. And if there’s one thing you're not, it’s amateurish. 

A hand grabbed your by the back of your shirt, yanking you backwards. Through instinct, you grabbed them in return, twisting their wrist slightly as you tried to get a look at who in the hell was grabbing you. Ginger hair and a pale scowl told you exactly who it was.

“Hux!” You huffed slightly relieved, and let go of his arm. He gave you a stern look at the informality of you calling him by just his name and you corrected yourself, “ _General,_ I mean. Just the one I need.” 

“I’m the _only_ one. Anyways, what in blazes are you doing? You’re _impossibly_ late, I _doubt_ Phasma is even waiting on you anymore.”

“Oh pish posh, General,” You waved him off, “I can’t be _that_ late. No one even gave me a time.”

“Well,” He placed a hand at the small of your back, walking you to where you needed to be, “Regardless of what time you were supposed to meet your trainer and Phasma here, you should be here in the mornings. You’ll have meetings to attend to soon that Phasma needs you to be present at. You have absolutely no knowledge on what goes on around here and that needs to change _pronto._ ”

You shrugged, “Look, I do as I’m told,” He looked at you weirdly, apparently not buying it, “ _Sometimes._ And in my defense, I wasn't told any of this.”

“Very well. You’re here, anyways. Look alive because you certainly won’t be once you walk in there.”

You sighed, turning to him and giving him a small salute before opening the sliding doors before you. They revealed an enormous dark yet lit up training ground with weapons and obstacles displayed all around, in the back corner was a heightened area, probably a sparring arena. The diversity of the weaponry was astonishing and the new age of technology used for simulations was undoubtedly intense. It was a fighters dream come true. You felt a bit like a kid in a candy store, you knew your way around a fair amount of weaponry and this was as if every opportunity was being handed to you on a silver platter— _literally._

Two figures where gathered in the middle of the arena, conversing privately.  One recognizable as you could tell it was Captain Phasma unmasked in all her blonde haired glory, the other… Not so much. They weren't facing you but from what you could tell they were tall, had black hair, and were wearing what looked to be an outfit made for training as it was exposing long, pale muscled arms. You walked towards them, silently praying you wouldn't get barked at for basically ditching your first day on the job. That, and not getting thrown out of an airlock.

“You’re _late,_ hot shot.” She called to you, peeking past the tall stranger standing before her. 

“I know.” 

“Do you have anything to say for yourself other than _‘I know’?”_

You stopped walking and huffed, sulking your shoulders a bit, “I’m an idiot newbie who doesn't learn from her own mistakes.”

The strangers’ shoulders bounced. They were _laughing_ at you. You squinted your eyes at their back in annoyance, staring them down like prey as they turned around to face you and suddenly, you were feeling an exuberant amount of feelings all at once. 

Somehow, you knew. You just _knew_ who was standing before you with a smirk glued on their face yet a unmistakably shy glint in their eyes.

“That you certainly are, _Intruder.”_  

“I suppose I need to go fetch Jinora when she lands. I’ll be back and you better be here when I get back.” Plasma scolded, leaving the room with her helmet now placed back on her head. You could only nod dumbly. 

As you stood there in awe after having listened to their voice and noticing a lightbulb flicker on in your brain, three things crossed your mind about this now no longer a stranger—in fact, he was the very man you’d been planning to confront. 

  1. He was human. Shocker, really.
  2. His voice still has that unbelievable baritone even _without_ the mask.
  3. He’s… _Attractive?_  



You were never a starer but apparently you were now because that is the only thing that you could do. You took in every feature of him, bewildered by every single one, and could feel your eyebrows doing weird things like furrowing and then quirking up again and again.

His hair was dark and unruly from training, brushed out of his eyes and away from the stickiness of his sweaty forehead. The face before you wasn't unusual, he looked like someone you could easily pass by on a past mission, maybe even see in the Resistance. Smile lines could be seen at the corners of his mouth, making you wonder what person made him laugh and smile so much to the point these would form, and they created a contrast when next to the youthful appearance of the freckles splattered gently across his face. His eyes, though, were surprisingly soft and intense and dark all at the same time. And his lips, they were almost red against his pale skin and full, adding a nice symmetrical feel to his face.

Despite how curiously normal he appeared, you felt as if you were struck by lightning. Could you move? Could you still speak? You probably shouldn't speak right now. You were mortified at the fact you could think these things of him just by looking upon his face. 

He rubbed the back of his neck in a somewhat nervous matter, though his eyebrows were furrowed in agitation, “Would you stop staring?” 

He brushed past you after that, walking towards the weaponry to put up his training staff, making you shake your thoughts and remember what you actually came here for, deciding to put that aside and confront him. 

With balled fists, you marched angrily to him, following behind him with a heated glare. He made you furious. His appearance made you feel as if you were going to breathe fire. Of all the faces he could have, it had to fucking be that one. The one you couldn't deny. **Why** did he look like that? Why did he look _at you_ like that, with that gaze?  

You ripped out the note from the back of your pocket, wanting to shove it up his ass, but instead ran ahead of him and shoved it to his chest. He looked at you angrily, his lip twitching a bit, before looking down at what you were giving him. He grabbed your hand that still held to note and inspected it, a smirk growing on his face once he read it. 

“You think _I_ did this?” 

You ripped your hand away from his warm grasp.

“I _know_ you did this. _And_ the holopads with the nebulae and constellations.” 

His lips pursed together and he nodded his head, looking to be in deep thought. Although, you couldn't tell if he was taking you seriously or not. You growled under your breath, flustered by his flip flopping ways.  

“I can neither confirm nor deny this, I hope you get that.”

He walked away from you and you followed him _again_ , egging on his already erratic mind. “No, actually. I _don't_ get that. It’s not that big of a deal, you know. It’s perfectly okay not to hate me.” You smirked as you stopped him again, folding your arms across your chest and sticking your chin up at him. It didn't help, he was still crazily tall and towered over you.

“Stop talking like you know I did it. You _don’t._ You don’t know _anything._ Now get out of my way.” He was raising his voice, now egging _you_ on. 

“Funny, I thought you were a coward because you hid behind a mask, but as it turns out you’re _still_ a coward even without it on!” You screamed up at him, standing on your tip toes as you did. 

“And _you’re_ still fucking up every chance you get! I’m beginning to wonder if it was worth it.” His voice was like venom and his gaze was as equally poisonous, and poisoned you were by it, it pierced into you like a smooth blade. 

“If _what_ was worth it?”

He shook his head and walked to the weapons wall, “Forget it.” 

“Forget _what?_ That you _personally_ saved my life?” He winced at that, wanting nothing more than to read your thoughts and stop all of this. “Possibly did something for me? Am I supposed to forget that those things point to one thing?”

He stalked over to you slowly. You realized you should be terrified of him, of everything that has transpired between you two. But not one ounce of fear could be found coursing through your veins, just adrenaline. You were on a complete adrenaline high _just_ from talking to him.

”Maybe it's all in your head?" 

" _Is_ it?"

You suddenly became very aware of how close he was to you, he looked down the bridge of his nose at you, studying the way you hesitantly held his gaze. His eyes flickered downcast, looking you up and down, making you feel both insecure and enthralled. It was a flash of a glance, almost impossible to catch, but you _did._ And when his eyes met yours again with the same intensity they held just minutes ago when you two were screaming at each other till throats went coarse, your breath hitched just as quickly as his glance was. You were startled. _Intrigued._

His voice was low and smooth, " _Maybe._ " 

He strode _out_ of the room at the same time Phasma strode _in_ , accompanied by a short, about your height, Togruta who was most likely your trainer. Her stripes were beige and white, her eyes a piercing light, misty grey and skin a dark orange. She was dressed in navy with knee-high white boots and gold accents in the mix of the outfit. She held a golden staff that glowed white at both ends, casting a soft glow everywhere she was.

Phasma opened her mouth to speak, but her guest spoke first, “Hello. I’m Jinora Tahno,” She said, grasping ahold of your hand warmly, though it took a moment for her to locate your hand, and cradled it with care as she looked intently at your face, not your eyes. “I will be training you for the next month or so."

Your eyes shifted away from her gaze uncomfortable for a moment, feeling like a book she was intensely immersed in. It felt as if she was looking in deeper, like she wasn't looking at the surface but instead what lay beneath. 

Then, like a fleeting moment in time, your senses seemed to heighten. In the span of about five seconds, you felt every single part of your brain open up to a numerous amount of feelings and sentients. The feeling swirled around and touched every part of your body, electrocuting it with an untamed energy and pricking your skin with gooseflesh. You gasped, snatching your hand away from Jinora’s like it was a fire scorching your skin, and then stood breathless as you attempted to comprehend was just happened. It left just as soon as it brushed upon your mind and you were left in a whirlwind of emotions. 

She looked to you, not quite at directly though, with sad eyes, “Oh, you poor poor girl.” She shook her head in a shaming matter, “You’ve unknowingly severed yourself from the greatest awakening power within you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lol
> 
> Can anyone make any guesses as to what just happened? And why could Jinora do that?
> 
> don't forget to leave kudos, comments, idk anything else you can think of?


	14. Interruptions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jinora's insight has rattled you but reveals to you that you want nothing to do with what she is suggesting. Kylo Ren, though, has different plans. He intends to awaken your mind and lift this block he struggles with, even if you have no knowledge of its existence; even if there are a few vexatious interruptions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Follow me on tumblr @ starwarsh0e and look under my tag 'aphelion' to see more stuff involving this fic. Such as, aesthetic posts for the chapters, my rambling, and song recs. :) 
> 
> Also, I just want to say, I REACHED 100 KUDOS WHAT THE FUCK SHIT BITCH OH MY GOD. It's not THAT much but like it's a lot to me. So, thank you to everyone that reads and comments and leaves kudos. If you don't comment, that's fine!!!!! I'm just glad you're reading! 
> 
> I hope everyone enjoys this chapter, it's a little shorter but still a chapter.

_What?_ What do you _mean?”_ You gasped out, feeling your heartbeat race and breathing go from calm to wayward in an instant. You could faint right here, right now if you weren't careful.

She sent you a knowing look, as if she was telling you she knew more about you than she was letting on with her eyes. You shook her off, not caring about what was planned for the day or what you had to do. Phasma could tear you apart all she wanted another day, for now you needed to get away from them both. You wanted nothing to do with this nonsense.

“You’re insane. You literally _just_ met me.”

With an angry huff, you ran out of the training arena, thoughts buzzing with what she’d revealed to you. Your pulse was thrumming so rapidly you could feel it in the tips of your fingers and in the sides of your head, pulsating with terror. 

But why were you so consumed with this unspoken fear of something that lasted less than a minute? It held so much power, and felt as if it would go on for infinity, but was ripped away from you in an alarmingly familiar way. The entire experience was familiar, like the emptiest part of you was full again and so _present._ It was like a second heartbeat that kept a different part of you alive. 

 _Why_ were you running from it?

“You take one more step you're out of here _for good,_ Agent!” 

You stopped in a skidded halt at that looming threat, slowly turning yourself around to see Phasma standing viciously outside the entrance of the arena. Her demeanor was always sharp and she held a feeling of vigor in the air wherever she was. This struck you so hard at the moment it felt as if you could fall backwards like the fool you were to her.

“Agent?” You replied, walking to her shamefully. 

She looked to the left, shaking her head in an appalled fashion, “ _Yes._ Agent. You’ve been given an official title, wouldn't want to mess that up would you?”

Perhaps you could put off any mention of the force and focus on what was needed to be done… for now. “No, I certainly wouldn’t." 

You were face to face with her now, or rather, face to chest. Too many tall people around here for your liking, it felt as if you were an ewok. She looked down at you with confusion consuming her facial features behind her mask, uncertain on what to say about what Jinora had said to you. It embarrassed her, slightly, that Jinora would pull something so significant like that. She always one to tell it how it was, though. Still, it took her by surprise and she was now forced into contemplating on putting off your training until this subject was either put to rest or resolved in some way. 

“I don’t know if what she said was true and there’s no way I can tell if it was or not. But, there is _someone_ who could. Jinora could do it the old-fashioned way. Unless you’d prefer a more… traditional interrogator?” The threat rang hollow as a result of the dreariness in her tone, but you weren't distracted from the fact that you were about to be questioned; and you knew exactly how. Kylo Ren.

“You are not to mention this to anyone, though, is that clear? Even if Jinora’s insight was false. This isn't something that is easily accepted around here.” She finished, leaving you with rousing anxiety entering your body and an uncompleted puzzle to the bigger picture of what could happen next for you.  

* * *

“Is this all _really_ necessary?”

Kylo hadn't uttered a single word to you since Phasma had privately taken you to him. He was insufferably exhausting to deal with, you’d figured out, as he had declined with supported reasoning to question you. Granted, you didn't have any answers to reveal anyways, so it would have been perfectly fine with you if Phasma hadn't talked him into it. He too, appeared reluctant and surprised when told of Jinora’s experience with you, just as Phasma had been.  

You, on the other hand, could care less. You had guessed it was nothing life-altering and that she was a low-key force user. _That_ much was plain to see. Still, it put you on edge to know that both Kylo and Phasma would react in such a way. Everyone seemed to know more than you did on the matter. And here you were thinking _you_ had something against Kylo with that little note of his… That he denied. Well, for pay back, you’d deny _everything_ he questioned you with fingers crossed behind your back.

“Yes.” The distortion of his voice was back due to the mask, but you found yourself missing the sound of his true voice. It was pleasant, in a sense anyways.

His emotions were palpable in the tightness of the small, dark interrogation room. He was on edge, his muscles twitched from budding disquiet and his mind raked every ability he had. Getting into your mind would be impossible, he _knew_ this, and trying to open up the block like Jinora had was an ability he would never be capable of. He only knew power, control was _never_ his best expertise. And control was the root soaking up the nutrients needed to sprout the ability to feel the force that breathed life into you. Even if he could see that it was present in you just by having you walk in the room, it wasn't enough. It would _never_ be enough. 

Your mind wanted to latch onto him like a leech. Only, you’d be sucking out his knowledge of this apparently unforeseen thing, not his blood. You couldn't help but wonder if you could force yourself to feel that enlivening feeling again, and if it would help you do exactly that. 

It was a missing piece, that feeling, of the puzzle you were. An empty space you had never known of till now could be felt greatly, spreading endlessly, and it triggered a mental picture of your purpose being as hollow as a pin-pricked egg. All because of the piece placed in it for a fleeting moment in the wake of the mind-jolting feeling that hailed from the deepest branches of your soul. 

You tugged against the metal restraints, straining your neck to look down at them curiously, “I’m not going anywhere, you know.”

“That’s not what they’re for.” He replied, standing firmly in front of you now. His words offered little to none reassurance, instead they heightened your discombobulated state. 

“Then _tell me_ what they're for.” You demanded, feeling like there could be no logical explanation for this.

He shifted his weight, bounced on his toes for a moment and rolled his shoulders. He was distressed and dancing on the highest tier of hesitation. “It may be painful for you.”

You chewed on the inside of your cheek, thinking. “Aren’t you _used_ to inflicting pain? I should be no different than one of your prisoners.”

He went silent and you knew he was hesitating again. Either rage or dismissal could come out of him in this moment and you wanted to clean the slate to open him up.

His fists balled, furious at what he couldn't control around you. “The thing is, you _are_ different than them. _This_ is different.”

Well, that certainly turned the tides. He just churned an entire ocean with raging waves till it was a smooth sailing one with one sentence. What storms lay ahead, though, were the real threat. 

“Why?” You’re breathless and it feels as if he’s sucked the life out of you.

“Because…” A single gloved hand reached to your face, ghosting over your forehead with the slightest accidental brush of his fingers, “I can’t get in.” 

You gulped nervously and kept your eyes locked on where his would be. Your eyes burned and teared up slightly from not blinking often, but it strained you more to blink. It felt like you’d miss something he did if you blinked; if you shut out the moment for a millisecond. He pulled his hand away and stared at it, as if something terrible had happened to it. 

“Can’t get in what?”

“Your mind. Your everything.”

“How do you know? You’ve never tried.” 

He chuckled softly, but it wasn't lighthearted. It had an acerbic background. “Oh, I’ve tried. I tried the minute I saw you and every moment I’ve had with you after. It’s impossible. _You_ are impossible, everything bit of you,” His voice was harsh now, growing more malicious by the second as he started circling around you, “You are the first to break free of my control. You don’t recall the moment you did it, _do you?”_

You shook your head ‘No’. 

“As expected,” He began to pace before you, making your nerves liven like wires powered by anxiety, “You were immune to my freezing. But there’s no way for me to confirm Jinora’s insight and say it was because of the Force.”

“The Force?” You inquired, raising an eyebrow.

He turned his head to you and then turned it away, circling around you once more. A more calmer energy was radiating off of him now, it wasn't exactly peaceful but it was no longer crashing into you in cycles of distress.

“But I can try. I _should_ try. It’s only logical…” He was rambling to himself, ignoring your question, and tapping his fingers together in an obsessive manner as he walked. You eyed him warily, he was suggesting a proper interrogation it seems. 

“This isn't going to be comfortable for you, I need you to understand that.” He unlatched his helmet and tugged it off of his head, distracting you the second it was off. 

Dammit. _Damn him._

“But, know this. I don’t want to…” He paused to look down at his hands again, and then let out a long sigh, “To _harm_ you. It’s _not_ my intention. So, I’m asking you to let me know immediately if the pain is too much. I will stop.”

He flickered his eyes up to yours, still keeping his head down, and suddenly you couldn't remember how to human. In fact, you’re pretty sure big red lights were flashing in your mind followed by blaring alarms screaming ‘ERROR’. 

Then, his hands came to your face once more and tentatively held it on both sides. Dark eyes bore into yours. Your breathing changed. Heartbeat was practically vibrating. He smirked slightly at this, sensing your physical signs of nervousness. You could smell leather on him, most likely from his gloves that were currently pressed cooly to your warm cheeks, and a slight hint of creepiness. 

This was all too much, what was he even trying to do? Freak you out? If so, he was doing a marvelous job at it with his face and hands and what he was doing with them. You shouldn't be affected this way by him, not like this; not _ever._

But, you _were_ affected by him. Mentally _and_ physically… More so the latter at the moment.

It was a late reaction, but you nodded with lips parted slightly in a daze, remembering now that you were agreeing to letting him into your mind. 

Honestly, it wasn't that great of a place to be in. You’d like to move out. Black mold was probably growing somewhere, that would explain the long mental list of reasons you despised yourself.  

You focused in on his face and gaze. His eyes hardened before closing, and already you could feel a gentle sensation at the back of your mind, seeking for more and something to latch on to. It was slightly awkward, having his face this close to you plastered with soft concentration, and you chose to look anywhere but at him. 

Then, after a few minutes, that too became awkward. So, you closed your eyes, deciding this would maybe help open up your mind to him. Or whatever he was trying to do. 

This was much harder than it looked. Meditation wasn't exactly your gimmick and it looked to be the exact thing he was doing. Which, to be frank, was considerably weird. 

For you, there were simply too many distractions. Like how your back felt like it really needed to pop, or how a tickle on your nose made you want to cut your face off since you couldn't reach to itch. Also, he was radiating uncomfortable energy, not to mention heat as well. It was stifling, awkward, and you were just about to give up on this whole thing. You shifted uncomfortably in the standing position of the interrogation chair, sniffed and wiggled your nose in an attempt to do away with the itch that lingered.  

It was as if your mind knew you were getting bored of not being on the receiving end of things, and sought out to make a change. Because, in weird haze, you made a breakthrough.

Behind your eyelids, it seemed as if you were looking at a feeling. It was hard to pinpoint what that feeling could be, though. You were still seeing despite not looking upon the reality right in front of you, but a numerous amount of senses were felt, some you weren't sure you could decipher. Was there even a word for what you were looking at and feeling right now? If there was, it would not be good enough; not be _exuberant_ enough. For this very moment and sensation was beyond anything the normal brain could manage.

The feeling and senses grew, heightened, and stretched your mind. Visions of the only things you could convert these experiences into danced in your head, like an explosion of slideshows showcasing beautiful things. The feeling of foamy waves crashing into your feet, slipping wet sand or pebbles in between your toes and sinking you into the ground on which you stand on. Shooting stars grazing the night sky. A sunrise beckoning your dormant body. The gleam and filter across the twinkling nebulae in the middle of bleak space, calling you in to it’s suctioned embrace.

You reached further with your mind, almost broadcasting yourself forward, now becoming aware of the fact you had been broadcasting inwardly. Wanting, _needing_ , to feel these visions more starkly like you were this experience. But you only found a wall, and your palm outstretched to it. 

Was it real? Where you _actually_ here?  

No. It wasn’t. 

Your senses created this mental image, just as they created the visions seconds ago. Your mind was speaking to you, telling you that this was as far as you could reach, as far as the mind can see until further advances. But, that didn't mean you hadn't _already_ reached far, because you _had._ You knew it— _felt_ it.  

All because of him. Kylo. 

A throbbing pain suddently shot through your head, making you jump and your limbs twitch sightly, touching every section of it and digging deeper holes into your mind. Holes you didn't want to explore. Didn't need. It felt forceful, like a stampeed of crazed animals rampaging through your mind. It only bounced against the wall in it, though, which pushed immense, seering pain throughout your skull. You hissed out in pain, wincing as well. The warmth of Kylo's hands left your face, replaced by the cold air of the ship gracing your feverish and now clammy skin, and all pain ceased to exist. 

You opened your eyes, astonished at what had transpired, wanting to discover if he had just felt and seen the same as you. Wondering what it could possibly be, and if it was just another part of your wild imagination. It would seem it was from the look on his face, still tense and concentrated. Like he was just beginning to pry back a layer of your mind, only to have it ripped away and know with certainty that every attempt to start over would lead him to the same wall you came across. 

"I'm sorry. I felt that." He said, just below a whisper. 

It took a strange sound to break you out of a trance you started to slip into, and apparently to break Kylo out of his as well. It was soft. Squeaky. Familiar.

To try in on for size, it was now your turn for your head to tilt. You listened in carefully for the sound that now had your attention, trying to place what it could be or where it was coming from. 

 _Mew. Meow. Mew. Mew._  

You couldn't help yourself, “Is that… Is that a _cat?”_ You whispered.

Kylo’s eyes shot open, a frown gracing his, already, harsh features. He cursed to himself quietly, mumbling something about a ‘feral delinquent’ on his floor. Dropping his head down whilst shaking it, unruly black hair moving about, he took his hands off your face finally and moved away from you to leave the room. Black boots thumped loudly with every step he took, per usual. With a flick of his wrist the door opened and he strode out, looking every which way for what he assumed to be outside the door. 

“Fucking… Millicent wha—“ He sighed harshly, pinching the bridge of his nose. “ **General!** ” 

His voice boomed and echoed down the hallway, no doubt shaking rooms in its wake, making you turn your head and peer out of the opened door with a strained neck to see what was happening that would make him yell like this. How his voice could still be this powerful and deep even without his mask was sort of unfathomable to you, honestly. 

A new figure came into view, a ginger one to be specific. Only, this wasn't the ginger you were accustomed to seeing. They were much smaller, fuzzy, and were currently circling around Kylo Ren’s legs whilst nuzzling them and… Purring. Yeah, General Hux would never be caught dead doing _that._

Kylo looked down to the feline at his feet, brushing hair out of his eyes with his hands in both necessity and agitation. This was so beyond unprofessional, having Millicent show up in the middle of him filtering out the block in your mind. Not like he was getting anywhere with it, though. Still, it was horrifying and the fact that the general had ever called _him_ unprofessional or ‘rogue’ was a shock to him at the moment. 

“ **Ren,** what the _hell_ are you doing with my cat? I’ve been looking everywhere for her!” You heard the accent filled voiced from down the hall, faint but undoubtably angry. 

Kylo took a moment to look back to you, looking slightly sheepish. He was definitely disturbed. You raised both of your eyebrows and looked to the cat and then back at him. He rolled his eyes in returned, turning his attention back to the general. You now understood that the ‘feral delinquent’ he was referring to was not the cat, but Hux. You snorted, despite yourself, not believing what was happening before your eyes. And _they_ expect to take over the _entire galaxy?_

“I’m not doing _anything_ with her, she came to me. Probably looking for some food because her owner _starves_ her to death.” Kylo quipped, looming over the general with fascinating tremors of anger. 

Hux scoffed, “I was literally just trying to track her with treats. Treats! You know I feed her precisely, Ren, shut it with that nonsense.”

“Fine. Whatever. That still doesn't explain why she’s on my floor, in the middle of an interrogation I might add, disrupting the entire ship with her sounds of _abandonment.”_

What _is this?_ Jeez, were they married? They sure fought like an unhappy, two weeks away from divorce couple.

“You are so _fucking_ melodramatic, you know that? You take everything to the highest level of complete bogus and I’ll have you know I—” 

“—I don’t mean to interrupt, but I mean… I’m right here.” You waved a bit, despite your bound hands, watching as they snapped their heads to you in surprise, like they were caught in the act—which they _were._   

“And might I just ask,” You added, not being able to contain your laughter now, “What the _actual fuck_ is going on?” 

You sputtered your words, laughing so hard your ribs hurt from the shaking of your body. Your laughs turned into guffaws, and soon you were slightly snorting. They just stood there, looking at one another as if they were questioning their existence, making you laugh even harder. 

“Alright, we get it. I’ll take my cat and _go_ ,” Hux bent down and picked her up, “Come on, Millicent.”

Kylo turned on his heel and walked back into the room, closing the door behind him with another one of those simple wrist flicks. He was silent for a while, not facing you, before he sighed loudly and for a long time. 

“I see why you call him… What was it? A ‘feral delinquent’?”

He turned to you with strong arms crossed over his chest, chuckling as he did. His shoulders bounced and eyes squinted slightly with each soft laugh. Once he stopped, only a smirk remained.

“You heard that, huh?”

“I heard _all of it._ ”

He nodded, still smirking, not being able to contain it. It really _was_ ridiculous, what just happened. Still, that didn't erase the problem at hand.

The subject was changed and the demeanor followed suit, “What was it that you felt? I know you felt something, I could sense your searches but didn't see your findings. Couldn’t get past the block.”

You scratched that question out, “When you say block, what do you mean by that?”

He stared at you, his eyes shifting around to look at your face. Moments like these were he would pause with you were unbelievable to him. If you were any other person, he’d be in your mind _right now._ Easily. And you two wouldn't be in this mess, no, _he_ wouldn't be in this mess. You had no problem with the block, didn't even know it existed. He was the one prying.

“That’s a good question… For another time. Let’s get you back to Phasma,” He was closer to you again now, and you two held each other’s gaze. Not quite sure what was happening. His lingering gloved fingers touched your forehead once again, _needing_ your thoughts, begging for them. But they just wouldn't flow into him. “She’ll be able to put better use to your mind than I can.”

* * *

“And I just _let him_ touch my face. What happened after was even more unexplainable, and I don’t really want to talk about it. But then, Hux’s cat came and made everything weird. Cute cat, though. Looks like him. Did you know he had one? Millicent, I think?”

The roles had been reversed. Here you were, rambling Lyra’s head off as she made dinner and you paced around the apartment thinking about your day. Everything had happened so fast you didn't really have the time to ponder on it, Phasma sure didn't let you. It was nothing but training exercises all day and watching troopers spar. You weren't allowed to, _yet._ Jinora would return in about a week to start your real training, not that you truly needed it, but until then it was being glued to Phasma. On a leash, essentially. You could only hope that these literally mind boggling confusing sequences would slow to halt for a while as you trained, because in all honesty, you wanted nothing to do with it. It was more on your plate than was necessary. 

“Wait, I don’t get it. You were sent to him to be questioned about Jinora’s inquiry of the Force, supposedly, within you?”

“Yeah. But I don’t think I… Have it? Use it? See, Kylo has it, I know that. And I think what happened was his doing, he was _trying_ to read my thoughts. He can’t." 

 _Because he’s a complete idiot._ Beeree beeped behind your pacing figure, stating their obvious distate.

“Right on, B.”

“That’s sort of invasive,” Lyra scrunched up her nose, disgusted, “But what do you mean by ‘he can’t’? Isn’t that easy for him to do?” 

You shrugged. “That’s what I thought… But he mentioned a block.” You quit your pacing, stopping to sit atop the island in her tiny kitchen, letting your legs dangle off the side, “Wouldn't tell me much about it, or anything at all for that matter, but it’s a thing. And I’m determined to figure it out.”

“Couldn’t that be dangerous? And shouldn't you just focus on the task at hand? You'll be training for weeks on end, which is going to take a humungous toll on your body despite whatever skills you may have already, and on top of that meetings. You’ve explained this to me. I don’t think you should be entering predator territory.”

“Ah,” You shook a finger, “But I already have. He drug me into this territory whether he likes it or not. I can handle it. Baby steps, Lyra, baby steps.” 

She took a frying pan off the heat, seeing that it was ready. Vegetables and soup were prepared, as both you and her were vegan. Everything about living with Lyra was convenient. Your stomach rumbled as you looked at her plating food, and you took it gratefully as she handed one to you with a glass of water. Elmer hopped up on the island you were sitting on, rubbing his soft chin against your elbow as he sniffed the savory food smell wafting through the air. 

“If you say so,” She lifted her glass of water and scratched Elmer’s head, “Cheers to certain death.”

You chuckled and raised yours as well, “Cheers.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ooo girl.


	15. Maimed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Over the course of almost two months, both your training and status in the First Order grow. Danger proves to be lurking around every corner, though, when you come across an encounter that reveals more than meets the eye.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all the kudos and lovely comments!! Hope you enjoy this fairly short chapter.

Two weeks into your training with Jinora, you fell out of forms for the umpteenth time and threw down your wooden quarterstaff in frustration. You flopped down onto the training mat, glaring at the small Togruta, and wiping rivulets of sweat off of your brow. You’d been working drills all morning, doing combinations of different sets of forms. Jinora stressed that it was good for you to maintain abilities in _all_ martial forms and weapons. 

She started you off with something simple and familiar to you, a staff. Of course, _her_ style with this weapon was much different from any experience and style you used, which was a strategic thing called ‘winging it’. You’ve mastered all levels of winging it. Not so much the _true_ way, though. The forms she had you doing from sunrise to sunset were hard, painful, and required an immense amount of concentration—something you lacked. 

You couldn't hold your frustration in anymore. 

“How the hell is this going to help me in the fighting department? We just stand here for hours holding forms achingly slow, forms I can’t do might I just add! Isn’t my fighting style _already_ good enough?” You blurted out, yelling at the top of yours lungs.

Jinora still maintained her form, unmovable and in deep meditation with her eyes closed. You ruined this state she was in, though, with your uncontrolled outburst and she sat down cross-legged opposite from you on the ground. She arranged her over-robe around her and adjusted her hood around her shoulders before replying simply: “No.”

There was a placid look on her face. You waited for her to say more, but she didn’t. “Just no? You can’t give me any pointers?" 

Jinora leveled a serious look at you. “The pointers you are looking for will be found through patience. You lack this, along with a numerous amount of other things,” She sighed tiredly, “But, you'll excel in most things in due time.”

You felt a surge of anger at the mention of patience and quickly tried to suppress it. It hadn't been brought up over the weeks, but the mention of it at the moment didn't help _one bit_ with what you were going through. It was hard dealing with not picking up a skill easily like you normally did and you had a feeling it would only get worse. 

You struggled with tackling your emotions for a moment, and felt the anger morph into frustration and even a small bit of what felt like… betrayal. You couldn't tell if it was from your body not doing what it was supposed to, or Jinora.  

Pushing it aside, you clambered to your feet and picked up your staff. “Can you show me that tricky bit from the fourth form?” 

Jinora chose to ignore the bitterness in your tone and did exactly that.

You finished the entire set that day without any more outbursts, but left with a powerful headache throbbing in the back of your head. 

* * *

You snapped at Lyra for the first time only three weeks in. You were chafing at living in close quarters with another person after all your years of jumping from planet to planet and living on D’Qar, alone. You didn't know how to handle other people in your living quarters, around you almost every single hour of the day, awake or asleep. Back at D’Qar, you lived in a more secluded section of the Resistance base, away from everyone else’s living quarters. Time alone was necessary for you after coming back from months on a mission or at Hosnian Prime during hearings from the senate.  

Worst of all was when she asked you to do seemingly inane tasks, like cleaning up the apartment some when she was gone or picking up some necessities at either _Starkiller Base_ or the _Finalizer._ Today she asked you to take some finished research papers down to the lab for her when you went on your run around the satellite, and you were too sore from weapons training to put up with that, let alone even _think_ about going for a run. You were fiercely independent and she needed to understand that.

“Take them yourself!” You growled at her, rubbing your cramped feet and legs with both hands and glaring up at her from your spot on the floor. 

You were frustrated and exhausted at this new lifestyle you were expected to conform to, but everything wasn't falling into place for you. And the fact that it had been nearly a month of this made your state of mind settle into a place that was filled with anger and dysphoria. Invasive migraines had also been a part of your daily life, taking over any intent you had on training, and the struggle with concentration was forming into a life of suffering. 

She was taken aback by this, not expecting such malice in your words. “I’m sorry I asked. I’ll do it myself. But just know this, I only ask you because I know you need a break from everything else. It’s the very least I can do.” 

Lyra was just about to walk out the door when you stopped her after the overwhelming feeling of annoyance and guilt took over, “I’ve got it. You should rest, you were up all night.”

The look of gratitude on her face should've been rewarding in and of itself. 

It wasn’t. 

You were sure she could hear your muttering about ‘nice gestures’ and where she could put them, yet she said nothing. Oddly, you were upset at not getting a rise out of her for that, just like Jinora when you’d make comments like that. 

“You need to not be so hard on yourself. I think you’re acting like this because of the pressure you're putting on yourself mentally _and_ physically. This reaction to change is normal, though, but that doesn't mean it’s impossible to be content. You need patience, that’s all.” Lyra’s voice interrupted your thoughts as you attempted to have patience and mediate that evening. Attempt was the key word. 

* * *

A little over a month into your training and life in the order, you suddenly weren't training with Jinora anymore and slightly unbearable meetings filled in the gap. Granted, Phasma had taken over your training for the time being and was kicking your ass twice as hard as Jinora would. Even though there were fewer training days in the week. So, you were still getting in some ruthless workouts, and thankfully less forms and meditation were involved. You now had a good idea of what Phasma meant by ‘breaking you’. 

But for now, you sit in the corner of a meeting room, picking at your cuticles and barely having any input in the topic of discussion. Wishing you’d be put in an incinerator instead of suffering through the slow burn that was this conversation.

Which was boring anyways, and you had no knowledge of the topic therefore you couldn't have at it with the arguments. General Hux was talking plans and moving forward. While on the opposing side, Kylo Ren was talking about his Knights of Ren and what he could and _should_ do with them. 

You’d caught on to what the Knights were over the weeks of countless meetings you barely listened to and through talking with Hux a frequently. The two of you got along in an odd, deranged sort of way and could openly talk about how infuriating Kylo was together. Which was, _admittedly_ , nice considering you’d been somewhat avoiding the broody, dark cloaked leader ever since the— _quite literally_ —painfully awkward encounter.  

It didn't help that you still struggled to figure out if you either wanted nothing to do with him, or everything to do with him. And that itself was confusing enough.

“Agent,” Your head snapped up, locking a gaze with Kylo, “What is your take on the matter?” 

You narrowed your eyes. 

He knew you hadn't been listening and didn't care to, the smug undertones to his voice told you so. You backfired, despite not knowing what you were even agreeing to. “I don’t agree with your proposition. General Hux’s sounds much more systematic. Yours is a bit… _reckless_ and _disruptive_. Which, I believe you’ve said _isn't_ what you need, _right_ _Lord Ren?”_

Hux’s wicked smirk from across the table spoke volumes and your face mirrored his. You couldn't see Kylo’s face but it was evident he was irked, per usual, by your words and presence. His fingers twitched and body tensed as he turned back to everyone else, not bothering to reply to your remark. 

Truthfully, you knew not to speak to him this way; you knew the danger that could come with him. But not once has he shown any attempt to disarm your sly jokes and petty remarks. Most of the time he kept up the banter, today not so much.

It was interesting interacting with him. You two were like fire and water. Opposites. At least, that’s how it felt from an outsider’s perspective, you knew nothing about the guy and you weren't sure if you _wanted_ to. All you knew is how to push his buttons and you intended to _smash_ them, much like consoles you’ve heard he slashes up. 

“Well, that’s all for today, men. I do believe you all have work to do. You are dismissed.” Hux’s ‘general voice’, as you liked to call it, rang out through the room as he excused lieutenants and officers whilst standing at the table. They all stood and left the room. murmurs of plans for dinner and sleep bouncing throughout the crowd of them, leaving just Phasma, Hux, Kylo, and you alone.

Hux turned to you, grabbing papers from the table, “Did you still want to get dinner? I’ve got time.”

Eating with Hux had become somewhat of a ritual while you were on the _Finalizer._ At first, he joined you simply because his controlling nature commanded him to see what you were up to, not trusting you completely. Then, once an actual normal conversation took off, his intentions were different. He had taken a liking to you. 

You, the _intruder._ Now moving up the ranks in the most hesitant of fashions.

It was pleasantly surprising how unusually normal everyone here could act when it came to simple things such as eating dinner. Phasma usually joined you two and occasionally Lyra would as well, if she was present. Kylo on the other hand, never did.  And you weren't so sure if he _ever_ would. 

 _“Ren is an obnoxiously private person. He’s always alone and only eats here if he wants to bother me. Although, he drastically changes around his Knights. He’s less… closed off.”_ Hux had told you only a week ago when you brought up the subject of Kylo not eating in the cafeteria and choosing to eat alone.

“Sure but I’ll meet you there.” You finally replied. It was weird of you to stay after a meeting, you knew this. But, you weren't exactly convinced that Kylo wasn't wanting to stay something to you. It felt like he was waiting for them to leave. Normally he leaves before the meeting is over out of either boredom or disdain, so you took the opportunity to shoo them off for a moment. 

Hux gave you two weird look before nodding and walked out with Phasma, you eyed them as they left. Kylo proved your mental accusation to be right and stayed, not moving a muscle, looking as if he was barely drawing breath in his lungs but very obviously looking at you. At last, your eyes shifted to him. He seemed to have caught this glance and leaned back in his chair, hands clasped together lazily. Looking as smug as ever despite the emotionless mask he wore. 

It pissed you off.

 _“What?”_ You snapped. 

He shrugged quickly but it looked more like a twitch, “You just amuse me.” 

“ _Amuse_ you?” 

“Of course,” He replied matter-of-factly, leaning in, “And it’s clear you’re trying very hard to. It’s working, for whatever it’s worth.”

Your eyebrows tugged together as you stood up angrily. He never could leave you at ease, could he? 

“For your information, the only thing I’m _‘trying very hard’_ to do is survive.” You walked around the table and snatched some papers off of it, then proceeded to stand adjacent to him with a hand on your hip, “I would never waste my time trying to _amuse_ you or whatever the fuck else you think I’m doing.” 

“Then I’m guessing the staring was nothing too? What about the jokes?” He was standing now, stalking over to you from across the table, “The interrogation room?”

You backed your face away from him slightly at the sudden looming presence he brought, “What are you getting at? This is off topic.” 

“Admit it.”

You scoffed, looking away in an annoyed matter, “Admit what?”

He leaned against the table, tapping his fingers against it and studying your face, trying to read the surface desperately. Hoping. 

Silence reached across the room save for the gentle thrumming of his fingers, now growing louder with each thought he had. You stared at it, annoyed at the consecutive movement and sound it had and placed your hand on top of his, stopping it. 

Your hand stayed there longer than it should have before you pulled away. He never flinched. 

“You don’t hate me.” He stated.

It hit you then. You’ve never said you hated him. Not verbally, anyways, but even then it wasn't serious. Simply an expression of annoyance hidden in the privacy of your thoughts. What you were currently being faced with, though, terrified you in a way you’ve never been terrified. 

You were scared of the truth. Scared because all things you cannot control are terrifying. And this was something you could not bend to your will. You could not control the curiosity that followed when you looked at him; the way he drove you mad with his taunting ways and the way it was always leaving you wanting more. You could not control the fact that you, though you’d never admit this to yourself, _didn't_ hate him. 

Truly had no reason to besides the fact that he was public enemy number one. Coming face to face with the guy was different, though. It bothered you how human he was, how it was evident he used to be something other than this. 

Maybe you were wrong. Maybe it was all a web of lies strung into the image of a gentle face. 

“No comment?”

You hummed a bit and with a monotonous voice, “No, you’re wrong. I do hate you.”

With that, you left for dinner. Leaving Kylo still staring at where your face would've been, not sure if his plan had backfired or not. Still hoping for something else and not knowing why he would hope for such a thing… Or hope _at all._

Why were _you_ the last person he’d want hating him?

* * *

The yawn that came out of you left Hux in a state of awe at how a person could look and be _this_ exhausted and still keep their head above water.

“I think I know what I saw in you, Agent.” He said out of the blue, cutting up his meat in tiny pieces forcefully. The plate and silverware clanked together, doing its part in the many chimes of this tune in the large room. 

You looked up at him with teary eyes not from overflowing emotion, but from yawning, and wiped at them with a napkin hastily. 

He continued, “It’s the will to live. From the moment I saw you, it was evident you had your feet planted on different grounds. You were determined and spiteful to get back. You had a bite and a bark. You haven’t tamed them at all, unfortunately. But I’m beginning to _understand_ , not agree, that maybe it isn't so unfortunate.” 

You huffed a small laugh, “Thanks. I think.” 

“Oh yes, it’s a compliment. This is simply me observing your many traits. You’re very hard to read, you know.”  

“So I’ve been told.” You mumbled, picking at your vegetables and rice. Essentially, the same exact words had been spoken to you by another, though in a much different context. And perhaps they held more importance to you since it had been your mission to figure out what Kylo Ren had meant when he said there was a ‘block’. That mission had reluctantly been put off, though, when he was less present on board during the month that had passed and your training picked up pace.

Today had been the first time in weeks that you’d seen him for more than a minute in the hallways. Your mission was already beginning to feel like it was back on course, like you had something to do other than massage your sore muscles in between training and read Lyra’s many books till you fell asleep somewhere.

“Well, well, well. If it isn't the two shit twins.” A new plate had settled on the table next to Hux’s and new voice accompanied it. For a second, your fatigued brain thought it was the plate full of food talking. That was quickly shot down when you realized hands were holding the plate—silver hands, to be exact.

“Phasma. Good to see you’re actually giving yourself some time to eat.” Hux spoke.

“Yeah. When Sarlacc bait here isn't giving me a hard time, I eat.” She teased, pointing a fork at you, and digging into her food already.  

You somewhat forced a hushed laugh, rubbing your temples and feeling that your temperature has risen. Along with a ruthless schedule, a dull headache had wormed its way through the month. At times, you could feel the pain it carried increasing. Oddly enough, it was mostly when you’d meditate and fall into a deeper focus. Just as you’d reach the level of focus you needed to be at, it was like you’d been mentally shot and instead of bleeding out, a dizzying migraine was produced. 

Though this time around, you weren't meditating. You weren't in deep focus _at all._ This was strange, even for you.

Phasma, Hux, and everyone else seemed to drown out as you could feel your headache pulsating in your ears and beneath your eye sockets. It was the only thing you could feel. You furrowed your eyebrows as you listened to your pulse growing rapid and felt it move under your fingertips, which were touching upon your temples.  

Stars! This felt louder than the room was! 

You opened your eyes, squinting as you did, to look around the premises. The brightness of the lights pierced your head and you hardly suppressed a wince as you stood up. Hux and Phasma gave you weird looks but you were too immersed in this wretched feeling to produce any explanation for the feeling you had. 

A slight ringing had filled your ears, making them pop and feel like your eardrums were going to burst from the high frequency sound waves. You continued to push through and search for an area to get some water. 

Finally reaching the drink area, you snatched a cup and with shaking hands, filled it up to the brim with water. You chugged it down, closing your eyes as you felt the cool liquid roll down your throat and send a cooling sensation throughout your body. The fever wouldn't subside but maybe if you drank enough, the headache would. 

Jeez, you needed some meds from Lyra. 

As you continued to chug down water, your name was whispered behind you. You stuck up your pointer finger at them, signaling whoever it was to wait. Drinking your last gulp, you set down the cup and turned, only to be met by a trooper. 

You tilted your head, “Yes?”

“It’s me. Des.” They said in hushed tones, herding you inwards slightly.

Your eyes grew wide, remembering what had happened weeks ago. Remembering what he did for you. You suddenly became aware of what could have happened to him and it raised a question in your mind as to why he was gone for so long. You would have seen him in the cafeteria, even in training.

“Take off your mask…”

He did so hesitantly and though you never knew what he looked like, you _knew_ he didn't always look like this. No wonder he was hiding behind his mask unlike the rest of the troopers in the cafeteria, who were ripping them off before they even walked in. 

Purple and green bruises covered still swollen small, slanted brown eyes and red, welted burn marks covered his slightly tanned forehead. His eyes were bloodshot from the blows. No doubt he had more bruises underneath all that pure white armor.  

You gasped, sickened by the image now imprinted in your mind, and reached up to gently take his face in your hands. Your shaky fingers barely grazed his face and eyes as you looked upon him, heartbroken. The pads of your fingers traced the welts that would soon be scars tentatively.

This was an act of **rage.**

He was maimed. A victim. The moment he walked into the First Order, he was a victim—as were you. 

Your eyes became misty and foggy, “ _Oh, Des._ I’m so sorry." You croaked out, "Who did this? _Why?_ Wh-"

 “It’s okay. Don’t be sorry, please. I knew this would happen,” He moved away from you and tugged his mask back on, “I can’t be seen with you, though.”

Your anger couldn't be suppressed any longer. You growled, “No. I need to know who did this to you. You didn't deserve it, any of it.”  

He looked around, fear was the reflecting glossiness in his eyes. “Terex. Agent Terex. I’m sure you’ll meet him soon enough. He comes for reinforcement training every once in a while and also leads missions.”

You repeated the name silently, trying to embed it in your mind so you knew who to get your claws on when the moment came. Des walked away from you to get a meal, leaving you in complete horror. 

This was wrong. This was _all wrong._   

Des wasn't conforming, he wasn't made to fit in the puzzle piece that the First Order had created for him. It was ever-changing, his shape. One moment it was square, faking its way through the confinement of the life of a trooper. In another, it was a diamond. Not made to fill in all the corners of a square box.

Like _you._

And if he was beaten so viscously like this for putting one foot out of line, you couldn't _imagine_ what would happen to you if you did such a thing or worse. That is, if you haven't done so already.

You could already be the next target of Terex for all you know. You wouldn't be surprised if a glowing red dot was on your forehead right now, ready to swipe you out of the picture for good with one clean shot. 

Through this thought process, you realized something. 

You were in complete danger and not one person from the Resistance knew you were alive. 

Not one person here would save you. 

Not one person cared.  

_Not one person._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woo. Tyranny. 
> 
> So. If you've read the Poe Dameron comics, then you're familiar with who Agent Terex is! It's very exciting to write this character and maybe adjust him to how it will all play out. He's ruthless and evil. A dick, if you will. Look him up, he looks pretty interesting. Though, I sometimes imagine him looking like Mads Mikkelsen when he played Le Chiffre in Casino Royale. Which is a James Bond movie. Nevertheless, he ugly af. idk.
> 
> Also, I imagine his voice sounding like Yakone from Legend of Korra... if any of you watch that. If not, you should look it up. It's a pretty badass voice.
> 
> Des's face claim is Steven Yuen. He's Glenn in walking dead and I keep seeing him looking like when Merle beat the shit out of him in this chapter. *crys for days*
> 
> Anyways. In the next one, we MAY get to get a glimpse of what the Resistance's reaction is to realizing the reader is probably dead. Which, given the fact that she's pretty close with everyone there, is pretty sad.


End file.
